


words from the beyond

by jenhyung



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Minor Huang Ren Jun/Na Jaemin, Minor Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun / Nakamoto Yuta, Minor Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung, Minor Kim Jungwoo/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, Minor Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee, Minor Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin, Minor Lee Taeyong/Seo Youngho | Johnny, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-07 19:03:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 32,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenhyung/pseuds/jenhyung
Summary: a collection of shorts and drabbles!





	1. content

**edit 9th july:** hi, it's ryan! ([@jenhyungs](https://twitter.com/jenhyungs)) 

this is a collection of shorts and drabbles under 1k that can also be found on my twitter! when i'm able to, i take requests through twitter and update there a lot quicker than i do here! i'm cross-posting them here so that they'll be easily accessible and more reader friendly!

i hope you enjoy them ;; 

general disclaimer: not beta-ed, most of them written under a half hour, not much thinking put into the plot, just writing practice!

**edit: 19th july** \-- i've removed some of the pairings from the main set of tags, seeing as there only one or two ficlets for certain pairings, i think it'd be frustrating to see the same work popping up constantly in the tags when it's got nothing to do with mentioned pairing (since i'm updating a little frequently at the moment). i will add the pairing to the main set of tags when there at least three or more ficlets included in this work in general! thank you ;; 

**edit: 28th july** \-- it's over ;;;;;;;; 

* * *

 

**summaries by chapter**

_chapter 1  
_ (content)

[chapter 2](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35314539)  
pairing: dotae (doyoung)  
prompt: as parents au  
summary: baby donghyuck wants a cookie  
genre: fluff  
related works: [chapter 21](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35622897/)

[chapter 3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35314587)  
pairing: luwoo (jungwoo)  
prompt: as parents au  
summary: 'we should get a puppy'  
genre: fluff

[chapter 4](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35314686)  
pairing: noren (renjun)  
prompt: 'oh my god'  
summary: jeno cooks  
genre: fluff

[chapter 5](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35316627)  
pairing: dotae (doyoung)  
prompt: a baby  
summary: 'you're freaking out'  
genre: fluff

[chapter 6](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35316663)  
pairing: johnyong (taeyong)  
prompt: wedding day  
summary: taeyong has his eyes closed  
genre: fluff

[chapter 7](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35316690)  
pairing: markhyuck (donghyuck)  
prompt: groceries  
summary: saturday nights at the super market  
genre: fluff

[chapter 8](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35316711)  
pairing: dotae (taeyong)  
prompt: lip gloss  
summary: shopping is tough  
genre: fluff

[chapter 9](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35316759)  
pairing: renmin (renjun)  
prompt: friday night  
summary: 'oh my god, jun'  
genre: fluff, slight angst

[chapter 10](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35318670)  
pairing: dotae (doyoung)  
prompt: hogwarts au  
summary: 'i could do better'  
genre: fluff  
related works: '[the emerald napkin](https://archiveofourown.org/series/904200)'

[chapter 11](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35349357)  
pairing: markhyuck (minhyung)  
prompt: the kitchen  
summary: minhyung waits  
genre: fluff

[chapter 12](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35350899)  
pairing: dojae (doyoung)  
prompt: as parents au  
summary: baby jeno is precious   
genre: fluff  
related works: [chapter 26](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35645229/)

[chapter 13](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35352735)  
pairing: johnil (taeil)  
prompt: lip gloss  
summary: 'please?'  
genre: fluff/borderline r18

[chapter 14](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35354745)  
pairing: dotae (taeyong)  
prompt: 'oh my god'  
summary: bug repellent  
genre: fluff

[chapter 15](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35408871)  
pairing: nomin (jaemin)  
prompt: moving day  
summary: jeno is tenacious  
genre: fluff

[chapter 16](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35411013)  
pairing: dotae (doyoung)  
prompt: disneyland  
summary: the happiest place on earth  
genre: fluff

[chapter 17](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35466864)  
pairing: markhyuck (minhyung)  
prompt: lip gloss  
summary: minhyung's brain fries  
genre: fluff

[chapter 18](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35469000)  
pairing: dotae (taeyong)  
prompt: canon au, headphones  
summary: it's movie night   
genre: fluff

[chapter 19](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35593548)  
pairing: noren (renjun)  
prompt: moving day  
summary: things change  
genre: fluff

[chapter 20](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35597877)  
pairing: dotae (doyoung)  
prompt: fake flowers  
summary: 'three  _years_!'  
genre: fluff

[chapter 21](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35622897)  
pairing: dotae (doyoung)  
prompt: a baby  
summary: baby donghyuck goes to the movies!  
genre: fluff  
related works: [chapter 1](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35314539)

[chapter 22](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35624742)  
pairing: johnil (taeil)  
prompt: headphones  
summary: they're lost  
genre: fluff  
related works: '[anything for you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15254121)'

[chapter 23](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35629767)  
pairing: johnyong (taeyong)  
prompt: family  
summary: 'saturday night ends in - '  
genre: fluff

[chapter 24](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35643177)  
pairing: nomin (jeno)  
prompt: canon au  
summary: jaemin's too much sometimes  
genre: fluff

[chapter 25](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35644434)  
pairing: dotae (doyoung)  
prompt: moving day  
summary: doyoung's moving in  
genre: fluff

[chapter 26](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35645229/)  
pairing: dojae  
prompt: wedding day  
summary: cake!  
genre: fluff  
related works: [chapter 12](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35350899)

[chapter 27](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35680791)  
pairing: dotae (taeyong)  
prompt: a minute  
summary: 'are you okay?'  
genre: fluff/slight angst

[chapter 28](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35747079)  
pairing: dotae (doyoung)  
prompt: the bed  
summary: nightmares  
genre: fluff

[chapter 29](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35748279/)  
pairing: johnil (youngho)  
prompt: a toothbrush  
summary: 'i could get you a toothbrush!'  
genre: fluff  
related works: [chapter 33](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35906931/)

[chapter 30](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35777331)  
pairing: noren (jeno)  
prompt: sunday morning, the bed  
summary: they wake together  
genre: fluff  
related works: '[runner boy and his cup](https://archiveofourown.org/series/956448)'

[chapter 31](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35903748)  
pairing: dotae (taeyong)  
prompt: canon au  
summary: 'have space for one more?'  
genre: fluff

[chapter 32](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35905488)  
pairing: markhyuck (minhyung)  
prompt: tuesday afternoon  
summary: 'yeah, well, i really like him'  
genre: fluff

[chapter 33](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35906931/)  
pairing: johnil (taeil)  
prompt: a minute  
summary: taeil is late  
genre: fluff  
related works: [chapter 29](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35748279/%5C)

[chapter 34](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35908338)  
pairing: jaewoo (jungwoo)  
prompt: moving day  
summary: jungwoo's first day  
genre: fluff

[chapter 35](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35910846)  
pairing: dotae (doyoung)  
prompt: the kitchen  
summary: doyoung clears it out  
genre: fluff

 

**posted separately**

_[tell me again](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15230211)_  
pairing: dotae (doyoung)  
prompt: canon au  
summary: that you love me  
genre: angst with a happy ending

[_anything for you_  
](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15254121) pairing: yujae (yuta)  
prompt: toothbrush  
summary: even if it hurts  
genre: angst with a happy ending  
related works: [chapter 22](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35624742/)

[i'll kiss you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15403572)[](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15254121)  
pairing: renmin (renjun)  
prompt: a blanket  
summary: so wait for me  
genre: angst with a happy ending

 

* * *

 

 

**sorted by pairing**

_prompt - pairing - word count - genre_

**_dotae_ ** [  
g. as parents au - 591w - fluff](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35314539) (related to, [d. a baby - 974w - fluff](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35622897/))[  
](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35314539) [d. a baby - 701w - fluff](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35316627) [  
](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35314539) [w. lip gloss - 637w - fluff  
](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35316711) [q. hogwarts au - 704w - fluff  
](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35318670) [s. 'oh my god' - 754w - fluff  
](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35354745) [a. disneyland - 997w - fluff, slight angst](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35411013)  
[l,o. canon au, headphones - 984w - fluff  
](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35469000/)[f. fake flowers - 1109w - fluff  
](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35597877)[d. a baby - 974w - fluff](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35622897/) (related to, [g. as parents au - 591w - fluff](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35314539))  
[p. moving day - 845w - fluff  
](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35644434/)[z. a minute - 1337w - slight angst, fluff  
](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35680791/)[y. the bed - 1066w - fluff  
](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35747079/)[l. canon au - 1371w - fluff](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35903748/)

**_markhyuck_ ** [  
e. the kitchen - 874w - fluff, slight angst  
](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35349357) [i. groceries - 839w - fluff  
](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35316690) [q. lip gloss - 1095w - fluff  
](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35466864)[h. tuesday afternoon - 1000w - fluff](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35905488/)

_**johnil** _ [  
w. lip gloss - 887w - fluff, borderline r18  
](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35352735)[o. headphones - 1000w - fluff](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35624742/) (related to, [b. a toothbrush - yujae - 1813w - angst with happy ending](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15254121))  
[b. a toothbrush - 951w - fluff](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35748279/) (related to, [z. a minute - 989w - fluff](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35906931/))[  
](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35748279/)[z. a minute - 989w - fluff](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35906931/) (related to, [b. a toothbrush - 951w - fluff](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35748279/))

_**johnyong** _ [  
k. wedding day - 683w - fluff  
](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35316663)[r. family - 788w - fluff](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35629767/)

_**dojae** _ [  
g. as parents au - 819w - fluff](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35350899) (related to, [k. wedding day - 708w - fluff](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35645229/))[  
](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35350899)[k. wedding day - 708w - fluff](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35645229/) (related to, [g. as parents au - 819w - fluff](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35350899))

_**luwoo** _ [  
g. as parents au - 630w - fluff](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35314587)

_**noren** _ [  
s. 'oh my god' - 568w - fluff  
](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35314686)[p. moving day - 1032w - fluff  
](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35593548)[c, y. sunday morning/the bed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35777331/) \- 1103w - fluff (related to, [runner boy and his cup](https://archiveofourown.org/series/956448))

_**renmin** _ [  
u. friday night - 940w - fluff, slight angst](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35316759)

_**nomin** _ [  
p. moving day - 766w - fluff  
](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35408871)[l. canon au - 812w - fluff](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35643177/)

_**jaewoo  
** _ [p. moving day - 1119w - fluff](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35908338/)

 

**posted separately**

[l. canon au - dotae - 1772w - angst with happy ending](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15230211)  
[b. a toothbrush - yujae - 1813w - angst with happy ending](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15254121) (related to, [o, headphones - 1000w - fluff](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35624742/))[  
](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15254121)[b. a toothbrush - dotae - 1392w - fluff (asode)  
](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12749130/chapters/35595756/)[j. a blanket - renmin - 1416w - angst with happy ending](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15403572)


	2. as parents au - dotae - fluff

“Can I please, please, _please_ have a cookie?”

Doyoung peers from behind his laptop, ears perking at the sound of his four-year-old son whining at the top of his very tiny, powerful lungs. He slides further down into the couch, knowing what’s to come next.

A sigh, “No, Hyuck, you’ve already had three, and it’s an hour to dinner. You can’t have any more, okay? It’s not healthy.”

Doyoung winces when he hears Donghyuck groan, stomping his way out of the kitchen and into the living area, _thump thump thump_ -ing, grumbling under his breath all the while. Whether he picked that habit from Taeyong or himself, Doyoung wouldn’t like to know.

“Can I have a cookie?”

The sound of the question is much closer now, try the armrest of the couch Doyoung’s sinking into, and it’s also very much directed at the man himself.

He tries to steel a stern look, knowing how perceptive Donghyuck is even at this young age, but his resolve crumbles to something finer than dust when his eyes meet Donghyuck’s – guileless and pitiful.

Doyoung clears his throat, “Didn’t papa say you’d already had three?”

“No,” Donghyuck blinks, jutting his lower lip out. “I haven’t eaten in hours.”

Doyoung bites on his lower lip, trying to keep it together. Clearly Donghyuck seems to think Doyoung’s age has impaired his ability to hear, or his ability to see – his son’s puffy cheeks are decorated with cookie crumbs and chocolate smears.

He drops his voice to a whisper, “I’ll get into trouble too if I get you the cookies.”

“Papa loves you,” Donghyuck shrugs. “One cookie won’t hurt you. Two wouldn’t either.” When he notices Doyoung try to evade, Donghyuck adds, “If _you_ love me, you’d get me a cookie.”

Without anything to say to that, Doyoung sighs, leaving his laptop aside and getting to his feet. He ruffles Donghyuck’s hair, and tells the boy to wait here while he tries to excavate two cookies without getting his arms chopped off.

“I heard you,” Taeyong drawls, the moment Doyoung’s right foot makes contact with the tiles of the kitchen floor. “He’s not getting another cookie. They’re store bought and have too much sugar. I already said not to – ”

Without a solid plan, Doyoung grabs his husband by the waist, twisting him around from his stance over the stove – to kiss him squarely on the lips, plush on plush. Taeyong doesn’t even fight it, sighing in defeat immediately and leaving the wooden spoon in the pot to twine his arms around Doyoung’s neck. Doyoung smiles, smug and exuding _hell yeah, I still got it,_ earning himself a tight pinch to his nape. He doesn’t mind much, but he does reach past behind Taeyong to grab the packet of cookies off the counter where Taeyong was holding them hostage.

“Not more than two,” Taeyong grumbles, when their short-lived kiss ends. “They’re too sweet, and dinner’s going to be ready soon, I don’t – ”

“Want to know what’s sweet?” Doyoung hums, kissing Taeyong again, inhaling deeply.

Taeyong groans, “I swear to god, Kim Doyoung, if you say – ”

“You.” Doyoung grins, stealing another kiss. “You taste sweet.”

“Get out of here before I change my mind, cheese.”

When Doyoung returns triumphantly to the living room with the packet of cookies in his hands, Donghyuck very well screams in excitement, rushing towards Doyoung with his arms outstretched, “I _told_ you papa loves you.” And before Doyoung can remind Donghyuck that he loves them _both_ , “Can I have three?”

“Of cour – ”

“ _Doyoung_!”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments/kudos appreciated! ;; related to [this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35622897/)!


	3. as parents au - luwoo - fluff

“We should get dog.”

Jungwoo glares up at the ceiling, “We can’t get a _dog_.”

“But you’re agreeing that we _should_ get dog?”

With as little movement as possible, Jungwoo angles his neck to redirect his glare towards his grinning husband. Yukhei has his elbow propped against his pillow, cheek to his palm as he smiles excitedly at Jungwoo over the sleeping form of their little three-year-old, Renjun.

It’s already been six months since the day they’d been blessed to bring a child – _their_ child – home from the adoption center, but there are still a hundred things that haven’t been arranged; like their new apartment that needs to be completely toddler-proofed, and the settling of whose parents are going to come over this weekend, or habits of Renjun’s that have yet to be learned and new responsibilities they now have to take on together and – it’s simply not the right time for a dog.

“We can’t get a dog,” Jungwoo repeats sternly, keeping his voice to a whisper.

On a normal night, Renjun would be fine sleeping alone in his own room (and in his own bed), but Yukhei had very brightly thought that it would be a good time to introduce their young son to the world of dinosaurs and had spent the entirety of the evening watching the old Jurassic Park movies.

The one with the blood and giant lizards and the occasional ripping of heads.

That, as Yukhei had come to admit on his own, was a really bad idea.

Since the evening, Renjun has vocalised fearing sleeping in his own room, adamantly insisting that he instead sleep between his two parents with his rabbit stuffy to his chest.

“But we _should_ get a dog, right?” Yukhei shifts, trying to reach over for Jungwoo’s hand. His movement jostles Renjun, and Jungwoo flattens his lip into a tight line, telling Yukhei to _cool it_. “I mean,” he mumbles, looking oddly like a rejected puppy himself, “Having a dog would bring Jun so many benefits, and we could have walks in the park together and teach it how to play fetch!”

Jungwoo sighs, eyes darting to skim over Renjun’s smooth features. He looks back up at Yukhei, staring at him with the most hopeful eyes he’s ever seen since the last time Yukhei tried to convince him that the rollercoaster they were going on was merely a kid’s ride. (It was not.)

Yukhei pushes, “It wouldn’t hurt to take a look, right?”

Jungwoo takes his hand from under the covers, slowly reaching across Renjun, where Yukhei meets him halfway. His mind whirls – having a dog would mean a companion to Renjun, and he’s always loved dogs, and so did Yukhei, and maybe a little addition to their lazy family would encourage them to get a little more exercise.

Yukhei sees Jungwoo’s assent before he even gets the chance to voice it, “We can go to Petsmart tomorrow after breakfast?”

Jungwoo squeezes Yukhei’s hand, reveling in the warmth that shoots up his arms and plunges straight to his heart.

_It wouldn’t hurt to take a look…_

“I love you,” Yukhei calls, pulling Jungwoo’s hand to his lips and kissing his knuckles with a soft smile. “Even if we don’t get one, I love you. I want to have a kid with you, and a dog, and – maybe another kid too.”

Jungwoo fights the urge to get up and plot himself into Yukhei’s arms, not wanting to wake Renjun (for it would take them another hour to convince the child that there are no dinosaur ghosts under their bed). He settles with, “I love you too.”

Yukhei beams, bright like a beacon, “I wish I could kiss you.”

Jungwoo’s heart pounds, “Kiss me in the morning.”

“That I will do.”

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments/kudos appreciated! ;;


	4. 'oh my god' - noren - fluff

“Oh my god.”

Jeno bites on his lip, “ _Oh my god_ , good or _oh my god_ , bad?”

Renjun spits out the bite of tiramisu he’d so confidently taken, “ _Oh my god_ , you’re lucky I love you and I’m not wondering if you’re actually trying to kill me with food poisoning, that _oh my god_.”

Jeno sighs, “Does it taste that bad?”

Renjun bends over the sink to wash the bitter out of his mouth with a handful of tap water. When he straightens, he’s met with the sight of Jeno pouting that eases the way his stomach is rioting at the terrible tasting cake.

“It tastes – I mean,” Renjun wipes his mouth with a paper towel, “What did you put in there?”

“I don’t know,” Jeno exhales loudly. “I just followed the recipe Hyuck gave me.”

Renjun crushes the paper towel and tosses it into the bin, “Did you use expired – anything?”

Jeno juts out his lower lip, prodding at the sad cake with a chopstick, “I don’t know… I just used whatever we had in the fridge.”

 _Which means he used expired everything,_ Renjun thinks, feeling a little more nauseous than before. Though that aspect isn’t at all Jeno’s fault, there’s bound to be a majority of expired groceries in a college dorm, sad to say.

Feeling less like he’s about to throw up again, Renjun curls a hand around Jeno’s waist, trying to pull his sulking boyfriend into a well-deserved hug,

“Babe, I already said that my mother’s only going to be here for the weekend, you don’t have to make her anything, okay? She – ”

“I know,” Jeno grumbles, pushing the Tupperware of cake away in disgust. He accepts the hug Renjun gives, resting his head on Renjun’s shoulder, “I just want to – impress her, y’know? I mean, it’s my first time meeting her.”

Renjun laughs, trailing his hands up and down his boyfriend’s back in efforts to comfort him. It’s the fifth time Jeno’s failed making tiramisu (Renjun’s mother’s favorite kind of cake), and every single time, Renjun has enough faith in Jeno to eat at least the whole piece, though this time he’s failed to have even just half a spoon.

“She already likes you, you know that,” Renjun assures, reaching up to play with the short hairs on Jeno’s neck. “She’s always asking about you and your multitude of cats, and whether or not your allergies were really going away or if you were just saying that so that you can keep them...”

Jeno sniffs, and unconvincingly, “They’re going away.”

“And she’s always saying that you’re invited for Christmas and New Year’s,” Renjun goes on, “You have nothing to worry about, okay?”

“Are you sure?” Jeno mumbles.

“She likes you,” Renjun says clearly. “And I _love_ you.” He squeezes his boyfriend tightly, “So please stop trying to poisoning me with your cooking, because I _will_ eat them.”

That succeeds in making Jeno laugh, “You’ll eat my terrible cooking?”

“Even if they’re green and icky.”

“Then I shall award you,” Jeno says, pulling them apart to look Renjun in the eyes.

“What for?”

“Your bravery,” Jeno grins, kissing Renjun chastely.

Renjun rolls his eyes, “If you’re going to be awarding me with those, I think you owe me a couple more.”

Jeno scoffs, the corner of his lips pulling up into a lopsided smile, “I’ll owe you as many kisses as you’d like.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments/kudos appreciated! ;;


	5. a baby - dotae - fluff

Diaper dispensers. Baby bottle sterilizers. Strollers with more functions than rightfully necessary.

This is not a place Doyoung wants to be in. This is not at all a happy place. This is a place that foreshadows sleepless nights and tireless days, vomit and spit and other unpleasant bodily fluids in places that should not contain bodily fluids. Money flying out the window for a level of college education that he’s still personally in debt for, teen angst and ungrateful words that will later be hurdled directly at him.

This is not great.

His throat is dry and his head feels a little light when he manages to grab hold of the star of today’s gut-curdling event, hands still trembling when he has to ask, “Have you seen – your brother?”

Wide eyes and a friendly smile, “I think he’s out on the lawn setting up the lunch spread!” She holds a hand over her very, very, _very_ pregnant belly. “Are you doing okay? You look a little pale, Doyoung.”

He laughs, nervously, “I’m alright, I just – I need to speak with him.”

And so, he goes, out onto the lawn in search of his boyfriend before his nerves can fully take over and he successfully explodes right in the middle of the baby shower.

 _Baby shower_ , he digs his nails into his palms, _the baby isn’t even here yet and we’re already celebrating its existence, what a load of –_

“Babe?”

Doyoung skids to a stop, mentally and physically, when he realizes he’s been standing over his boyfriend for an odd enough amount of time.

“Are you okay?” Taeyong asks, brows pulling together, concern doubling when Doyoung fails to answer. He leaves the paper plates on the table beside an enormous fruit platter, moving to touch the back of his hand to Doyoung’s forehead, other hand resting comfortingly on Doyoung’s shoulder. “Are you feeling sick? What’s wrong?”

“I just – ” Doyoung gulps. “I think – it’s the heat.”

“It’s November,” Taeyong frowns. He presses his palms to Doyoung’s cheeks, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Doyoung shakes his head, unable to keep the words in his mouth, “I don’t want to have a baby!”

Taeyong stuns, pulling back a little to stare at Doyoung as if he’d just swallowed three gallons of baby milk. His lips part, then close, then part again, like a fish gaping for water, and that happens for several moments more, until a look of serenity washes over instead.

“Are you with child?” Taeyong asks, stepping forward to tuck a tuft of Doyoung’s hair behind his ear.

“What?”

Taeyong thumbs the shell of his ear, “Are you carrying a child?”

Doyoung balks, “No?”

“Neither am I,” Taeyong shrugs. “Problem solved?”

Doyoung eyes shake, desperately trying to read Taeyong’s calm ones, “But I mean – ”

“I know what you mean,” Taeyong interjects, pressing his chest to Doyoung’s. He feels their heart beat together. “I also know that you’re freaking out over nothing.” Taeyong grins, bumping his nose to Doyoung’s, “This is my _sister_ ’s baby shower. Relax.”

Doyoung listens, taking a deep breath, most of it the smell of Taeyong’s flowery perfume and the sweetness of his natural scent. His arms work then, hugging Taeyong’s slender waist. Taeyong kisses him, sweet and slow, the best way to calm Doyoung down, he knows.

“Better?” Taeyong hums teasingly, giving Doyoung another peck on the lips.

“Yes,” he answers, albeit shyly, tilting down to take another kiss from Taeyong.

Taeyong rolls his eyes, “I’m glad to know that having a baby with me makes you want to run for the high hills.”

Doyoung splutters, “I just – ”

“I know,” Taeyong smiles, kissing Doyoung to shut him up before he starts to flubber again. “I also know that you’d be a great dad. If you wanted to be one, you’d be a great one.”

Doyoung promptly loses the ability to speak, and Taeyong simply laughs, dorky and comforting, untangling himself from Doyoung to hand him a stack of paper plates to help set the table.

“I – I love you,” Doyoung says, a little strangled and hoarse. So, he says again, “I love you.”

_And if I ever have a baby, it’d be with you_

“I love you too, idiot.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments/kudos appreciated! ;;


	6. wedding day - johnyong - fluff

“It’s superstition.”

“It’s a really dumb superstition, Youngho,” Taeyong grumbles. He yelps when his shin knocks into the edge of _something_ – of _what_ , Taeyong wouldn’t know, because he can’t _see_. “Now I’m hurt – I’m hurt trying to navigate through this very nicely designed hotel room with my eyes closed.”

“You just bumped into the coffee table,” Youngho supplies unhelpfully, voice laced with mirth and joy and all good things voices are laced with on a wedding day.

More specifically, _their_ wedding day.

Youngho continues to be annoyingly unhelpful, “If you can’t walk through a room with your eyes closed to get to me, should we really be getting married?”

Taeyong snorts, keeping his arms to himself lest he knocks over a very expensive vase he can’t pay for, “Why can’t _you_ walk to me?”

“My eyes are closed.”

“So are mine, idiot!”

Youngho laughs, loud and annoyingly charming, “You’re already halfway here, baby, you can do it.”

“ _Get married,_ they said,” Taeyong mutters, inching forward with his arms hugged to his chest. “ _It’ll be great_ , they said.”

“Stop sulking and get over here already.” Taeyong can practically _see_ the shit-eating grin on his husband-to-be’s face. His very endearing eyes and his very kissable lips. “And don’t make it sound like you don’t want to get married when you cried through the entire proposal _and_ the dinner after.”

“I’m going to start crying right now if you don’t come and get me, I swear – ”

Without a doubt that the karmic gods have it out for Taeyong, he trips over the leg of the couch and goes screaming, flying – into Youngho’s outstretched arms.

Taeyong digs his fingers into Youngho’s expensive suit, creasing it enough to give their wedding planner an aneurysm, “Did you open your eyes?”

“No,” Youngho answers quickly, righting them. “Did you?”

“No,” Taeyong sighs, wishing Youngho did, so that he could too. “How did you know I was going to fall?”

“You’re always falling,” Youngho hums. And adds, “For me.”

Taeyong groans, “Oh my _god –_ ”

“As if it isn’t true!” Youngho laughs, pulling Taeyong close enough to have Taeyong’s cheek to his chest. Taeyong shifts, still disgruntled, sliding his hands under Youngho’s jacket to press them against his fiancé’s back. “Look up – without opening your eyes!”

Taeyong does as he’s told, already annoyed that he has to leave the room with his eyes closed later on, “What?”

One of Youngho’s hands come up to cup this cheek, thumb poking at his chin gently.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to find your lips,” Youngho mumbles, thumbing over Taeyong’s lower lip. “So that I can kiss you.”

Taeyong grabs a hold onto Youngho’s wrist, stopping him, “Isn’t it superstition not to?”

Youngho kisses him anyway, as if they hadn’t kissed just hours ago. Taeyong doesn’t care about superstitions, happy to abide by Youngho’s doings, parting his lips to let Youngho kiss him proper. He feels the kiss all the way to his toes, and he trembles at the sheer love he knows Youngho is trying to convey.

They’re breathless when they pull apart, and Youngho is the first to speak, “It’s our wedding day.” Taeyong craves another kiss, trying blindly to find Youngho’s lips on his own, but the other is still talking, “And – how could I resist when you’re standing here looking _this_ good?”

Taeyong balks, restraint flying out the air vent and opening his eyes to meet Youngho’s, playful and a little dewy.

“You had your eyes open!”

Youngho dodges Taeyong’s punches, weak as they are, “I wasn’t going to let you hurt yourself, babe.”

“You had your eyes open the _whole_ time?”

Youngho hugs Taeyong tight, keeping him from trying to run off, burrowing his face into the crook of Taeyong’s neck, breathing in deeply, “I love you. I couldn’t resist.” He’s grinning when he pulls away to look down at Taeyong, “Forgive me?”

“I’ll forgive you if you kiss me.”

So, Youngho does, and Taeyong thinks he’ll walk through just about anything with his eyes closed as long as it meant he’d get to Youngho at the end.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments/kudos appreciated! ;;


	7. groceries - markhyuck - fluff

Donghyuck remembers when Saturday nights used to be fun.

Wriggling on the tightest pair of black, ripped jeans he can find, pairing it with nice top he’d gotten the day before, stealing – borrowing! – some of Renjun’s silver rings, Jaemin’s quartz necklaces and Jeno’s combat boots. They’d go out, he and the other three, to the noisiest clubs with the trashiest drinks and the lowest cover fee, stay the night with people they don’t know, then Uber back to the dorms while trying their best to not get a one-star rating for throwing up in the back of a Honda Civic.

They’d wake up on Sunday afternoon, too hungover for anything louder than a bird chirping by the window, wordlessly wandering around their shared apartment until Sunday evening eventually rolls by, signaling the end of the day and the start to their school week.

Rinse, repeat. Friday night, _party_ , Saturday night, _party_ , Sunday night, _recover_.

Donghyuck doesn’t remember when Saturday nights became the night spent in a grocery store.

He doesn’t remember when he’d started taking long minutes over deciding which box of strawberries had fresher ones, or how he spends the extra time to find cheaper, healthier alternatives to canned luncheon meat, or how he practically has the place memorized on the back of his hand.

Actually, no, he _does_ remember.

Saturday night turned into grocery night when he met Minhyung, who, unsurprisingly enough, Donghyuck’d had met at this very grocery store on a Saturday night weeks ago. It was the night before finals, and the others were whining about the lack of food in their dusty pantry, and Donghyuck was too tired of being elbow deep in research papers that he volunteered to head out and scour for food.

It’s become a sort of ritual, Donghyuck guesses, going grocery shopping on Saturday nights. _Their_ ritual that started when they’d started dating and Minhyung’d offered to cook Donghyuck dinner (which resulted in a very small, manageable fire). Thanks to the burnt salmon and eggs that might as well have been made of rubber, they’d ended up back at the grocery store, buying bags of chips and dip for a movie marathon date instead.

Minhyung still refuses to acknowledge that as their first date, but Donghyuck thinks it’s cute Minhyung can’t fry eggs. Or do anything in the kitchen that would result in anything remotely edible.

“Do you need peanut butter? Or do you still have some from the last time we got them?”

Donghyuck returns from his spaced-out adventure, turning to face his boyfriend, currently hugging a loaf of whole-grain bread, and holding onto a box of grapes in his other hand, “I think we might need more.” He grabs a family-sized jar off the shelf, “Jaemin ate out of the jar when he marathoned a bunch of Disney movies the other day.”

Minhyung nods, placing the bread into their shopping cart. He holds up the box of grapes, “Got this for you too. Since you said you hadn’t been eating enough fruits… You only like the red ones, right?”

Donghyuck brain stutters. He can’t remember the last time he’d _mentioned_ liking red grapes. It’s an odd enough preference; Renjun bothers him about it whenever they do the shopping, and Jeno insists that all grapes taste the same (they don’t). The last time he had grapes was months ago, and – but, yes, Minhyung _would_ remember something like that.

He remembers Donghyuck’s parents’ numbers just in case anything were to happen, he remembers Donghyuck’s schedule like it were his own, he remembers the important dates, the important likes and dislikes, the important things about Donghyuck. He remembers how Donghyuck hates green grapes, but loves red ones.

“What is it?” Minhyung asks, looking down at the box in his hands, then up again, confused eyes behind a pair of wire-framed glasses. “Did you not want them?”

Donghyuck shakes his head, “No, it’s just – I’m just… glad to be here. That’s all.”

Minhyung tilts his head in question, “Did you have somewhere else you needed to be?”

“No,” Donghyuck leans over the handles to the shopping cart, and Minhyung stares down at him from where he’s standing on the opposite end. “I’m happy. Here.”

Minhyung blinks, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m happy here with _you_ , dummy,” Donghyuck huffs, angling upwards to stare at Minhyung with his best lovey smile. “Now kiss me so that we can move over to go get paper towels.”

Like the best boyfriend, Minhyung does kiss him, splaying his fingers under Donghyuck’s jaw to keep him steady. It doesn’t last very long, but it’s sweet; Donghyuck thinks it’s got something to do with how they met, so his mind’s sort of wired that any kissing in the grocery store on a Saturday night is deserving of fireworks and a gold medal.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Minhyung says anyway, rounding the shopping cart to grab Donghyuck’s hand, lacing their fingers together, “But, for the record – I’m happy I’m here with you too.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments/kudos appreciated! ;;


	8. lip gloss - dotae - fluff

“Stop hovering.”

“I’m – not hovering.”

Taeyong sighs, tearing his eyes from the display stand to glare at Doyoung, hovering boyfriend and current president to the small nation of _I hate shopping, can we please go home?_ The boy remains rooted to his spot by Taeyong’s side, chest practically stuck to Taeyong’s shoulder like bad glue, lip jutting out into a pout that promises to last forever.

Or – for however long Taeyong’s going to take at this particular store. And the next. And the one after that.

Granted, he should be giving Doyoung a little more credit. They’d been out to more than three malls and _have_ been out since brunch, which means it’s been more than five hours since they’ve left home and five hours too long, by Doyoung’s homebody standards.

Taeyong, on the other hand, loves shopping, and loves to ignore the fact that Doyoung blatantly thinks he loves it a little _too_ much. It’s just therapeutic; it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t buy anything (though that’s rarely the case, unfortunately for his wallet), it’s just fun to take his mind off work and other things, walking through mall after mall, mind wandering to the unimportants.

Though, no matter how much Doyoung hated shopping, he made sure not to complain – for the first two hours, at least.

“Go wait outside,” Taeyong says, cupping Doyoung’s cheek, thumb caressing the cute puff of fat under his eye. “I’ll just be a second.”

“Then I’ll wait right here,” Doyoung huffs, leaning into Taeyong’s touch.

Knowing how stubborn he’ll be, Taeyong assents, turning his attention back to the row of lip gloss displayed before him. He leaves his hand by Doyoung’s cheek, knowing how much his boyfriend appreciated touch.

Hastily, his eyes rake the stand – Burt’s Bees, Carmex, Lanolips. Most of them Taeyong’s used, though he’s been looking for something a little different, just something new to try, and by Youngho’s recommendation, Kiehl’s should be –

Doyoung groans quietly.

“Wait outside,” Taeyong hisses. “I can’t think with you staring at me.”

Doyoung scoffs, “I’ll just stare at you from outside.”

“Babe, I’m just – ”

“I have to be here,” Doyoung sniffs, grabbing a hold of Taeyong’s hand and twining their fingers, palm to palm. “I’m going to be the one tasting it anyway.”

Taeyong can’t comprehend, “I’m just getting some lip gloss, you don’t have to – ”

“Don’t get anything cucumber,” Doyoung wrinkles his nose unappreciatively. “I don’t like cucumber.”

“They don’t have cucumber flavored lip gloss, Doyoung.”

“I know.” He shakes his head, “But you got that cucumber face mask the last time – I couldn’t kiss you without tasting it for, like… the entire week!”

Taeyong rolls his eyes, “ _Okay_ , I won’t get the non-existent cucumber flavored lip gloss.”

“Try the peach,” Doyoung moves to rest his chin on Taeyong’s shoulder, reflecting his complete lack of knowledge regarding personal space. Not that Taeyong would ever mind, of course. “I like peaches.”

He laughs, mostly in disbelief of the situation, but he takes the peach flavored chapstick off the stand anyway, more than willing to appease his boyfriend.

“Will this make you kiss me more?” Taeyong grins, looking down at Doyoung, who’s busy resting all his weight on Taeyong that he wouldn’t put it past them to topple to the ground. “If you like the taste?”

“Yes,” Doyoung hums, inching forward to press a kiss to the base of Taeyong’s neck.

“And what if you don’t?”

Doyoung straightens, faster than Taeyong would think he could move at this time of day, towering over Taeyong in an adorably daunting manner, pressing a kiss to Taeyong’s lips, uncaring of who might see. Despite knowing how red his cheeks are going to get, Taeyong smiles anyway, and so near reaches his ears when Doyoung pulls away to say,

“I’ll still kiss you more anyway.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments/kudos appreciated! ;;


	9. friday night - renmin - fluff/slight angst

“He what? Wait – so does that mean he _stood_ you – hello, _ow_! Shoulder! Me, a baseball player!”

Renjun buries his head into his arms, wishing with everything in him that the ground would very well crack open and swallow him whole, take him to somewhere where he isn’t him and this _really_ isn’t happening.

“He didn’t show up?” Donghyuck asks quietly, prodding at Renjun’s sleeve with the clean end of his chopstick. Beside him, Jisung sulks over his carton of strawberry milk, unhappy at having been smacked on the shoulder and told to be quiet ‘for just _one_ second, Ji’. “He really didn’t show up?”

“No.” Renjun moves to rest his cheek against the cold, _cold_ plastic of the cafeteria table. Cold like his heart, with how much he’s been cracking it apart. That is, if he still had one. “He didn’t show up. Let’s move on.”

Donghyuck shifts in his seat, lining himself up to Renjun’s line of sight, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Renjun’s toes curl.

_What is there to talk about?_

About how Renjun’d spent the entirety of last night waiting by the movie theatre on 62nd street, looking like an absolute idiot, wondering where, oh, _where_ on earth is his date? About how he’d waited from six in the evening to nine in the night, hoping that his date might’ve just been running late (and missed out calling or texting), thinking that he’s the biggest idiot to think someone like _that_ would actually want to date him – was it a bet? A prank? Were they watching from the bushes across the street, laughing about how pathetic Renjun felt, shivering, standing in the early winter’s night?

“I just – ”

“Guys – ”

Donghyuck flails a hand dismissively at Jisung. To Renjun, he nods, “Yeah?”

“I really thought – ”

“Uhm, Hyuck, I think – ”

“Jisung, I’m _trying_ to – ”

“Hi, Renjun.”

The voice, bright and sparkly, _sparkly_ – how a voice could exude such joy, Renjun leaves it up to the higher powers. It makes his insides shrivel and his head pound in annoyance, but his heart disagrees, speeding up to a rate far too high to be considered remotely normal.

“Na Jaemin,” Donghyuck, like the best best friend he very much is, drawls, disdain dripping from the syllables. “What do you want?”

Renjun squeezes his eyes shut, but he feels Jaemin standing to his right, smelling a lot like freshly mowed grass (probably from all the time he’s spent in the fields as a runner) and a lot like something Renjun would want to burrow his nose in. The smell. Of grass. Not Jaemin’s chest. Definitely not Jaemin’s chest.

“Oh, I – just wanted to talk to Renjun? If that’s – okay?”

Which is ridiculous, because Jaemin doesn’t _need_ Donghyuck’s permission to speak with Renjun. He isn’t Renjun’s parent, or the Grim Keeper holding the key to Renjun’s soul (because, after last night, Renjun’s pretty much declared himself as unwilling to keep going).

“He doesn’t want to talk to you.”

Jisung echoes, extremely weakly, “W – what he said.”

A hand lands on his shoulder, “Renjun? Can we talk?”

The emotion simmering in his gut is too much, and Renjun gets to his feet, shrugging Jaemin’s hand off roughly. He doesn’t care that his eyes are rimmed red from having sobbed through the entire night, and he doesn’t care at _all_ that Jaemin’s staring at him, shell-shocked, and obviously alarmed.

“What happened?” Jaemin grabs a hold of his shoulders, looking at his arms and legs as if to check for bruises – “Are you hurt? Did you fall?”

Renjun gapes, “I didn’t _fall_.” He shrugs Jaemin’s hands off him again, “Don’t – what are you doing?”

“What do you – I thought we – ”

“He’s sad,” Jisung pipes up. Renjun’s neck snaps, anger and a lot more embarrassment flashing through him. The younger boy, however, notices nothing of the sort, “That you stood him up.”

Jaemin blinks, eyes wide and guileless, “I – stood you up?”

Renjun grits his teeth, “Just get out of here, I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Wait, wait, Jun,” Jaemin laughs, nervous. His hands are on Renjun’s arm now, light and tentative, “I didn’t – what are you guys talking about?”

“Your date?” Donghyuck says flatly, “You left him waiting last night? On 62nd?”

Jaemin turns back to Renjun, who refuses to suffer any longer, “It’s fine. Forget it – just forget I ever thought you would – ”

“No, no, wait a second,” Jaemin interjects, shaking his head. “Our date – it’s tonight, right? Friday night?”

_Friday night?_

Jaemin lowers his voice, studying Renjun so intently that _now_ he’s really wishing the ground would eat him whole, “I have track practice on Thursdays – I never would’ve said Thursday… it’s tonight. Our date’s tonight.”

Donghyuck speaks for them in a loud groan, “Oh my _god_ , Jun.”

“Y – you waited for me?” Jaemin mumbles, lips slowly growing into a wide grin. “You waited for me?”

Renjun’s cheeks are on _fire_ , “Stop – I just – I thought it was yesterday – I – ”

“How long did you wait? For me?”

Renjun refuses to answer. Though, thankfully for Jaemin, Jisung loves to be of help, “Three hours.”

And he is left with virtually zero shred of dignity, soul filled with embarrassment instead. That’s _fine_.

“Our date’s tonight,” Jaemin reaffirms clearly. “Six? Dinner and a movie?” Renjun’s lost all understanding of life, but Jaemin seems to still have his intentions all distinct, “And I won’t make you wait even a minute, okay?”

Renjun can’t do much else but nod weakly, feeling utterly idiotic, “Tonight?”

“Friday night,” Jaemin grins, charming and sweet and making the wait worth waiting for. “Tonight.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos/comments appreciated! ;;


	10. hogwarts au - dotae - fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> related to [the emerald napkin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13411653/chapters/30728988)!

“Do you believe in love at first sight?”

Yuta glances up from his Ancient Runes readings, instantly suspicious, “Whose pumpkin juice did you spike?”

Doyoung rolls his eyes, “I didn’t _spike_ anyone’s pumpkin juice. I’m merely – asking a question.”

“An odd one at that,” Yuta counters, but lowers his guard, eyes returning to the scroll laid out beside his breakfast. “Why?”

“Nothing,” Doyoung mumbles.

And when he’s sure Yuta isn’t looking, he straightens in his seat, spotting the familiar fluff of dark hair, yellow house robs near slipping of his narrow shoulders. The boy, name and age a mystery to Doyoung, sits on the far end of the Hufflepuff table, nose pressed geekily close to the thick textbook before him.

Doyoung watches, as if the boy were to be a rare bird with pink feathers and a white tail, clasping his hands together and wincing inwardly when the boy reaches towards the center of the table for yet _another_ chocolate chip cookie. Now, Doyoung’s no Martha Stewart, the muggle _legend_ of a baker, his mother croons, but the cookies from the kitchens are… so to say, extremely subpar. Flour, butter, eggs, chocolate chips.

Doyoung could do so much better.

He could _actually_ do much better.

“Do you know how to get into the kitchens?”

That garners Yuta’s attention again, “What are you planning, Kim.”

Doyoung curses inwardly at how perceptive Yuta is, as expected of a Ravenclaw, however. “It’s just – I know someone. And I want to make them something.”

Yuta purses his lips, “Who?”

“Just someone,” Doyoung huffs, waving at the space between them as if it’d help in getting the conversation to move along.

“Someone…” Yuta narrows his eyes, painfully unimpressed. “That you like? Love at first sight?”

Doyoung doesn’t know if spending breakfast and dinners over the last fourteen days watching the cookie-eating Hufflepuff boy from across the Great Hall counts as love at first sight, but he nods anyway, eager to have Yuta stop asking any more questions he doesn’t quite have the answer to.

“And you want to make them…”

“Food,” Doyoung caves. “Cookies. They – they’re always having the ones from the kitchens, and they’re pretty unhealthy. I wanted to – make them some instead.”

“Why?”

Doyoung wrings his hands, “I – I don’t know, I just thought it’d be – nice, I guess. For their health.”

Yuta shakes his head, rolling his scrolls up, “I don’t know what’s more surprising – the idea of you cooking, or the idea of you obsessing over some random person’s nutritional needs.” He adds, with a great deal of incredulity, “For their _health_.”

Doyoung splutters, “I’m not – I’m not obsessing!”

“You’ve been spacing out a lot lately,” Yuta reports. “I know you’ll tell me who it is when you want to, but I also know that you’ve been thinking about it a long time.” He turns to shoot Doyoung a knowing look, “Therefore – obsessing.”

Doyoung really shouldn’t be _that_ surprised that Yuta’s noticed, and it does nothing to help his situation, currently plateaued and extremely stagnant. He can only live through crushing from afar for so long, “Do you know how to get into get into the kitchens or not?”

“I might have a way,” Yuta shrugs noncommittally, scooping his things up and slinging his bookbag over his shoulder.

Doyoung brightens, “Tell me after class? The library?”

“Don’t wait around,” Yuta sighs. “I’ve got Ancient Runes with Jeon. It’s going to be a long session.”

Doyoung tries not to pout, because he knows it’ll only serve to irritate Yuta further, so he nods, bidding Yuta goodbye. He waits until his best friend is striding out of the Great Hall before shamelessly reverting his attention back to his cookie-eating Hufflepuff boy.

Who is, however, not there; seat and silver platter, of what used to be a pile of cookies, already empty.

Doyoung sighs, already itching to see the boy at dinner.

It’s a second later that he’s thunking his head against the table with a loud groan, blushing to the nines when he realizes that spying on the cute boy in yellow has literally been the highlight of his life the past fourteen days.

Though, he has a plan now, at least – cookies.

And lots of them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments/kudos appreciated! ;;


	11. the kitchen - markhyuck - fluff

Minhyung hates the clawing in his gut. He hates the way it burns up his throat and fizzes on his tongue, the way it makes the insides of his cheeks tingle and the roof of his mouth itch.

Jealousy. Painful and uncalled for.

Firing its way through Minhyung that makes his stomach shrink, makes his lungs feel like they’re filled with smoke and on the verge of dropping, makes his heart feel like it’d be better off if someone just ripped it out of his chest and drove a stake though it instead.

 _Stupid_ , he tries to tell himself. _It’s nothing._

The moment replays in his mind like a broken player, hands on Donghyuck’s waist, his chest, his shoulders. Pinching his cheeks, ruffling his hair, tugging on his wrist. Whatever it is. Everything.

And so, he waits. Pitifully, if he could say so himself. Sitting in the kitchen with his bare feet to cold tiles, too busy wallowing in his self-pity party to turn the heat on.

“Hey.”

Minhyung ignores the greeting in favor of stabbing his slab of last night’s mystery meat. He really appreciates his neighbour’s cooking skills, but Doyoung’s boyfriend, on the other hand, is not terribly great in the kitchen. Not that any of them would ever have the heart to personally tell Taeyong himself.

“Did you leave early?” Donghyuck asks, tossing his keys onto the dining table. It slides smoothly, clinking against Minhyung’s plate. “I couldn’t find you after our set.”

The set. The set Donghyuck’s band was playing. The set at that new bar that had girls and guys and virtually everyone within a five-mile radius crooning over Donghyuck’s silvery voice, fawning over his winks and grins.

“Hello? Earth to Lee Minhyung?” A slender hand shoots out, inches away from the tip of his nose. “Are you there?”

Minhyung grits his teeth, annoyance building up and near overflowing, “What?”

Donghyuck stills, “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Minhyung answers, clipped.

“Which means you’re _not_ fine.” The chair adjacent to Minhyung’s is pulled out, and Donghyuck sinks into it, the chains hooked on his jeans clanging against the wood. “Are you – not feeling well? Is that why you left?”

“No.”

“ _No_ , what?” Donghyuck questions, leaning forward to try and take Minhyung’s gaze. It, however, is preoccupied with staring at his unpleasant dinner. “ _No_ , you’re feeling fine? _No,_ that’s not why you left?” When Minhyung continues to ignore him, Donghyuck sighs, “C’mon, babe, I sang for forty-five minutes with minimal water breaks. My throat is _hurting_ – why are you all grumpy?”

“I’m not grumpy,” Minhyung grumbles grumpily. Donghyuck shoots him an exasperated look, eyeliner smudged and looking desperate for a good night’s rest. “Did you have fun? Playing tonight?”

“What are you – ”

“Having – ” Minhyung stabs the meatloaf. “Everyone around you just _touch –_ I – nothing.”

Donghyuck sits, quietly. And then, he’s laughing. _Laughing_. Minhyung ignores the urge to keep his eyes on dinner, looking up and finding Donghyuck to be staring at him with incredulous eyes and the widest grin.

“Are you – _jealous_ , maybe?”

Minhyung turns away, “It’s not funny.”

“You – _aw_ , I’m – ” Donghyuck stifles another bubble of laughter. “I’m sorry, babe, it’s just – you never get jealous.” He scoots closer to Minhyung, reaching out to card his fingers through Minhyung’s black hair, pulling gently, having Minhyung turn to look at him proper, “It’s just funny, I mean – you _never_ get jealous, Min. I feel like I’ve stepped into a different dimension.”

“That’s not true, I – ”

Donghyuck scoffs, “ _Yes_ , it is. When have you gotten jealous, seriously?” He tugs on Minhyung’s ear lobe gently, “I’m always the one getting jealous when you’re off hanging with Jaehyun playing basketball, or with Youngho watching dumb movies.” Donghyuck mumbles, “And you’d always tell me that it’s nothing, don’t you? You’d say I’d be jealous over nothing?”

Minhyung recoils, “That’s different, Jaehyun and I – ”

“Are basically each other’s other halves,” Donghyuck deadpans. “I, on the other hand, have zero connection to the people I meet at gigs for literally – a minute and a half, Min. You do realize that, right?”

Minhyung pouts, sulking. He’d expected Donghyuck to comfort him, “Are you really going to mock me?” Donghyuck rolls his eyes, already grinning, “Really? While I sat here, in this tiny kitchen, waiting for you to get back? In the cold, _cold_ night?”

“You’re a big baby,” Donghyuck teases, leaning in to kiss Minhyung chastely. “You would’ve been warm if you waited at the bar for me like a regular boyfriend, and I’d introduce you to everyone – as my _boyfriend_. Taken. Off the market. Unavailable.”

“I – couldn’t stand around and watch,” Minhyung angles his head to press his lips to Donghyuck’s palm, muttering, “I’ll stay the next time.”

“You’d better.” Donghyuck smiles, shaking his head, “I can’t believe you got jealous.”

Minhyung groans, “Don’t laugh at me, Hyuck. I just – you know – ”

“No matter how stupidly happy it makes me that you got jealous,” Donghyuck interjects, winking smugly. “Because you _never_ get jealous – so, don’t be.” He grins, “I love you.”

The pout remains, even as Minhyung inches forward to whisper _I love you too_ , even as he kisses Donghyuck again, smiling into the kiss when he hears Donghyuck giggle, absolutely delighted. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments/kudos appreciated! ;;


	12. as parents au - dojae - fluff

“Jeno, don’t touch that! That’s – ”

A wry laugh, “Oh, Doyoung, leave the boy be!” She gets up from her rocking chair, resting her ugly, still-in-progress hand knitted baby jumper on the seat, waving at Doyoung to step away, “He’s merely exploring his surroundings!”

Doyoung feels his heart slam against his ribcage when Jeno spreads his hands out against the rug under the coffee table, then moves to try and lick at it, curious. Before he can, however, Doyoung is scooping the baby up in one swift motion and reaching for a baby wipe from the diaper bag, frantically cleaning his tiny fist.

“Don’t be such a worrywart!” Doyoung fights the desire to deck his mother-in-law in the neck when she advises confidently, “He’s already at fourteen months – it’s time to toughen up his immune system.”

With all due respect, Doyoung isn’t some dolt living in the eighties, believing in the hubba-jubba-juju _whatever_ superstition it is that Jaehyun’s mother’s so intent on following. He isn’t about to let his son lick dirt off his precious little fingers, and neither is he going to let Jeno wear that ugly sweater she’s been knitting, alright.

Only god knows how many times she’s sneezed into that damned thing.

“Actually,” he clears his throat, tossing the baby wipe into the bin by the couch. “A child’s immune system’s only really developed when they’re five, or even six, so – ”

“Nonsense!” She motions for Jeno, and Doyoung allows for it, reluctantly handing his precious bean to his germ-infested grandmother. “I had Jaehyun crawling around the house when he was just about Jeno’s age, and it’s built up a strong resistance in his system! That’s _exactly_ why he rarely gets sick, my strong son.”

Doyoung grinds on his teeth and lines his lips shut. There’s nothing he could say to that – he was the one who agreed to marry this old bat’s strong son with the impressive immune system and stupidly charming smile with the matching dimples.

“Why don’t you go check on dinner?” She suggests, already placing Jeno back on the ground, hands and knees on honestly the dustiest rug he’s ever laid eyes on. “I’m sure you could be a little more useful in there?”

Without a word, because he isn’t about to get exiled from the family by kneeing his mother-in-law in the gut, he stomps into the kitchen, already fuming when Jaehyun turns around, a knowing look on his face. It would be a more apologetic look, if this argument didn’t happen every Sunday when they dropped by the Jungs for their weekly visit.

“I love you,” he says immediately, sensing Doyoung’s rising anger. “I love you, and you love me. Remember that when you’re devising up ways to murder my mother.”

“She’s going to murder our _baby_!” Doyoung hisses, crossing the kitchen island to yank on Jaehyun’s arm. “Jung Jaehyun, she’s going to murder our baby and I _love_ our baby!”

Jaehyun sighs, moving to take Doyoung’s hand and bringing it to his lips for a quick kiss to the knuckles, “She’s not going to hurt him, okay? She’s a mother, she’s _my_ mother – she knows what she’s doing, right?” He reads Doyoung’s blatant disapproval to that, pulling him in for a kiss to the lips instead. “Don’t worry,” he mumbles, soft against Doyoung’s lips, “He’s going to be just fine.”

Doyoung squeezes his eyes shut, trying to rid the images of his beloved child crawling about thousands of germs, “I hate you and your stupid immune system.”

“You say that now,” Jaehyun laughs, accepting the insult easily. “But I’m the one cleaning up after your rubbish when you get sick every other month, am I not?”

“I hate you and your immune system,” Doyoung glowers. “I hate your smile too.”

Jaehyun mocks a look of offense, “You love my smile.”

Doyoung tugs him forward for another kiss, trying to gain any sort of strength before he has to return to the sight of his one-year-old rolling in what should just be considered a pile of dirt.

“Love you,” Jaehyun tells him, patting him encouragingly on the butt twice. Very inappropriate while they’re standing in the kitchen of Jaehyun’s childhood home. “Try not to strangle her, please? For me?”

Doyoung grimaces, “Fine.” He adds, when he’s at the door, voice dropped to a low whisper lest he’s overheard, “But you’re crazy if you think I’m going to let her put that sick-infested sweater she’s making on our child.”

Jaehyun scrunches his nose, “At least she’s not making _you_ a sweater.”

“She knows I’d burn it to hell.” Doyoung huffs, “Don’t be too long, okay? I don’t know what I’d do if I have to sit with your mother for another hour on my own.”

“Ah,” Jaehyun hums, “Exactly what I’d expected to hear from the love of my life.”

“I’m being serious, Jaehyun.”

“So am I, love of my life.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my first ever dojae! comments/kudos appreciated! ;; related to [this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35645229)!


	13. lip gloss - johnil - fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> borderline r18

Taeil knows when Youngho stops trying, because his entire world shifts when Youngho stops trying. It doesn’t help that Taeil’s stubborn about most things, and it certainly doesn’t help that Youngho is deathly determined the moment he puts his mind to something – even to something like ignoring Taeil, something he complains being terrible at.

He pulls on the hem of his shirt, shuffling into the bedroom, where Youngho is already tucked under the covers, glasses perched on his nose, novel on his lap. His boyfriend doesn’t acknowledge his presence, not even when Taeil slips into bed beside him, very brazenly pantless. Taeil takes the lack of attention and swallows it when he sees Youngho’s shoulder twitch the moment his legs brush against Youngho’s, skin on skin.

“Hi,” Taeil mumbles softly, wiggling closer to press his cheek to Youngho’s arm, focusing his eyes on the English book the other seems to be falsely invested in. “What are you reading?”

Youngho sighs, “Nothing you’d be interested in.”

Taeil turns to bury his nose in Youngho’s shirt, breathing deeply. Youngho fidgets. His voice is muffled when he counters, “How would you know?”

It’s silent for a moment, “Because I know you.”

“I know you too,” Taeil says, hooking a leg across one of Youngho’s, successfully latching onto him, torso flat against Youngho’s side.

Youngho grimaces, “Evidently not.”

Taeil wraps an arm around Youngho’s torso, fingers dancing the edge of his boxers, “I – said I’m sorry.” Youngho doesn’t budge, but he does tighten up with Taeil dips his thumb under. Just a little. “I won’t do it again. Promise.”

And when Youngho still refuses to cave, Taeil retracts his hand to pluck Youngho’s novel from his hands, tossing it over the bed. Before Youngho can move to pick it up and resume his pretense of ignoring Taeil’s advances, Taeil clambers over him, spreading his legs across Youngho’s hips, lining them up carefully.

Youngho finally looks at him then, eyes dazed and distracted. It’s a sight to see; Youngho this close, lips curved, plush, soft, cushiony. Everything good and kissable and it’s really simply instinct that Taeil wants to claim them now. But, he doesn’t, because he knows Youngho’s feeling it too.

Two days is a _very_ long time.

Youngho gulps, blinking blearily when Taeil licks his lips, breathing hotly, “Is that – is that lip gloss?”

Taeil bites on his lip, purely for show, “Yes.” He squeezes Youngho’s shoulder once, hips moving when he does, “It’s raspberry.” And then again, “I think you’d like it.” And again, “The taste of it, I mean.”

Youngho’s hands land on his thighs, exposed for him to touch, “Raspberry?”

“Mm,” Taeil colors it with a moan. “Think you’d like it?”

“Taeil, I – ”

“I’ll let you kiss me,” he interjects, whispering softly. “If you forgive me, I’ll let you kiss me.”

He sees the cogs work in Youngho’s mind, “But you’re the one who – ”

“I know,” Taeil hums. He plays with Youngho’s hair, “But I said I was sorry. And you’ve been ignoring me. So – forgive me, and I’ll let you kiss me. I’ll let you – kiss me a lot tonight.”

Youngho’s brow arches, challenging, “And what if I don’t? Forgive you?”

Taeil’s hands drop to his sides, pulling away, “Then – I won’t kiss you. I won’t kiss you, and I’ll grab a pillow and go sleep on the couch since you don’t want me, and – ”

“I want you,” Youngho pouts. Taeil hides his smirk with a look of innocence, watching Youngho’s eyes train on his lips, “But –

but you watched Game of Thrones without me.”

Taeil wants to slam his head against the headboard. He wants to slam his head against the headboard for several hours. He doesn’t even _like_ Game of Thrones. It just happened to be on and Youngho’d thrown a big fuss about it, and now they are where they are, two touch-less days with the stupidest argument in the world between them.

Honestly, after years together, there really isn’t anything remotely serious to fight about anymore.

Youngho sulks, “You know I was saving that episode for Sunday with Jaehyun and Minhyung.”

“I barely saw _five_ minutes of it, Youngho,” Taeil deadpans, shedding his persona at the mention of the topic of their argument. Game of Thrones, of all things. “I didn’t even _understand_ it!”

“I know, but – ”

“I swear to _god_ , Youngho, you kiss me right now or I’m _really_ going to grab a pillow and – ”

Youngho seems to heed the threat, kissing Taeil, raspberry gloss sweet, thankfully choosing his loving boyfriend over an hour-long episode of men on horses riding around forests, or whatever.

“It’s not fair, y’know,” Youngho grumbles, rolling them around to pin Taeil to the bed. “You, seducing me like that.” He kisses his way up Taeil’s neck, leaving sticky marks from the gloss that’d transferred over. “You’re always seducing me.”

Taeil twines his arms around Youngho’s neck, a shot of pleasure shooting through his veins when Youngho kisses him again.

“And Game of Thrones is a really _phenomenal_ show, you should really give it a chance and – ”

“Seo Youngho, if you don’t _shut_ up, I promise you, I will – ”

He laughs, silencing Taeil off with a kiss and giving in, because, really, he’s always been terrible at ignoring Taeil anyway.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments/kudos appreciated! ;;


	14. 'oh my god' - dotae - fluff

Ask anyone who knows Taeyong and they’ll tell you he loves Doyoung, simply because he does.

He loves Doyoung more than he loves lint rollers, which is a statement enough to rival most declarations of love. He loves Doyoung more than he loves dancing, because he loves dancing _with_ Doyoung more; seeing him jiggle around helplessly is one of Taeyong’s most favorite pastimes. He loves Doyoung more than he loves white chocolate, because it’s his second favorite kind of chocolate. (They don’t count milk chocolate – it’s too strong of a competitor.)

He loves Doyoung more than a lot of things, and he loves Doyoung all the time.

But it’s when Doyoung’s screaming at the top of his lungs at eight in the morning on a dark and gloomy Sunday that has Taeyong reconsidering his wedding vows. Dark and gloomy is good for staying under the covers, dark and gloomy is good for staying in bed, dark and gloomy is good.

“Oh my _god_.”

He doesn’t even groan, not wanting to give away that he’s now awake. Though, everyone in their apartment building _must_ be awake, what with the screaming and yelling and –

“Lee Taeyong, you – _get_ in here!”

 _Don’t move_ , he tells himself. _Do not move. He won’t know if you’re awake if you just –_

The sound of his bathroom slipper thwacking against the counter pierces the early morning, resounding and very complementary to Doyoung’s litany of curses that follow naturally.

“Taeyong, Taeyong, _Taeyong_!”

With an exasperated sigh, Taeyong throws the cover off, slinking towards their en suite, wearing his most practiced look of disbelief-mixed-grouchy. He remains unamused when he’s greeted by the scene of his husband, his husband that he _loves_ , standing atop the toilet seat, bathroom slipper in one hand, the other nowhere to be seen.

“Good morning,” he drawls, nonchalant at the situation. This has happened far too many times for him to be surprised. Or concerned, really. “Where is it?”

“I don’t _know_ ,” Doyoung seethes, waving his slipper, bunny ears and all, in the vague direction of the bathtub. “There, somewhere – there.”

Taeyong yawns, padding over as directed, rubbing his eyes to try and get them to work before he trips over one of the many magazines Doyoung has left on the ground.

“Be careful,” he hears Doyoung mumble, still holding his spot overlooking Taeyong’s shoulder. “It’s a big one.”

Taeyong sighs, “Is it a spider or a beetle?”

Doyoung scoffs, “I didn’t have a magnifying glass to that ugly thing – I don’t know what it is!”

And with that unhelpful description, Taeyong spots the miserable looking bug by the ledge of the bathtub. He says a short prayer for it, because he knows he’s going to _have_ to kill it, for if he let it back outside, Doyoung would begin his never-ending tirade on how it would figure a way to crawl back into the apartment. With a tiny flick, it falls into the tub, and Taeyong turns the tap on, leading it down the drain and to its inevitable death.

“There,” Taeyong shuts the tap off. “It’s gone.”

“My hero,” Doyoung grumbles gratefully, stepping off the toilet to join Taeyong on their bathroom mat.

“Y’know,” Taeyong starts, moving to wash his hands by the sink and grabbing his toothbrush from its holder. He might as well clean up since he’s already in here, “Sometimes I think you just have me around to kill bugs.”

Doyoung harrumphs, “ _Sure_.”

“Yeah,” Taeyong brushes his teeth, eyeing Doyoung in the mirror as he does. Doyoung waits patiently for him to finish, and Taeyong leans against the sink when he’s done, narrowing his eyes in suspicion, “You’re not disagreeing with me.”

Doyoung pretends to consider it, stepping close to cage Taeyong in, “That you’re bug repellent?”

“Basically.” Taeyong throws his arms around Doyoung’s waist, dragging him forward, “Or maybe, some sort of – really advanced… portable bug killer.” Doyoung laughs, and Taeyong frowns, “You should give me something in return. For killing tiny bugs that could potentially _harm_ you.”

“Tiny bugs,” Doyoung nods. “Dangerous.”

“To you, maybe.”

“Will making breakfast be enough?” Doyoung grins, already leaning close. “For killing that bug?”

Taeyong shrugs, “I was thinking of something else.”

“Good,” Doyoung kisses him once. “I was thinking of something else too.”

Taeyong loves Doyoung more than a lot of things, and he loves Doyoung all the time; even when he’s screeching about bugs at eight in the morning on a dark and gloomy Sunday.

(They spend it in bed anyway, doing a lot of _something else_.)

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments/kudos appreciated! ;;


	15. moving day - nomin - fluff

In retrospect, Jaemin should’ve known. He should’ve known that this was going to happen, and he should’ve prepared for it, should’ve at least tried to conjure a plan to battle it. He should’ve taken the necessary precautions, taken the extra steps to make sure that this, exactly _this_ wouldn’t at all happen.

But of course, he would never voluntarily fight Jeno on anything. He loves his boyfriend too much to.

So now he stands, regretfully at the entryway to the kitchen, overlooking the mass of cardboard, plastic covers, loose screws and morbidly looking furniture parts scattered across the living room as if a tornado had decided to swing by and wreck the new apartment. There’s also bubble wrap and an inordinate number of instruction sheets stuck to the walls with scratched up scotch tape, and leftovers from dinner still sitting pathetically on the ground, long gone cold and icky.

At the center of it, his boyfriend sits, near gone _mad._

With a soft sigh, Jaemin tries again, stepping carefully into the mess the war has left, approaching with as much caution as needed,

“Babe… It’s past midnight… We – we’ve had a long day, so can’t we just – ”

“No.”

Jaemin takes a deep breath. He has to be the adult here, and no matter how often he _isn’t_ the one playing the role, he’s not too unfamiliar with it, “Jeno, you’ve been at this for four hours. _Clearly_ it’s not going to get fixed tonight, so can you please just – ”

“I can fix it,” Jeno grumbles, not looking up from the instruction sheet laid flat out in front of him, crumpled and stained with Bolognese sauce. “I _can_ fix it, Jaem, just – give me a minute.”

“It’s been more than a half hour since the last time you asked for a minute.” He crouches to where Jeno is hunched over, IKEA tool clutched tightly in his hand. Jeno fights halfheartedly when Jaemin wrenches it from his grasp, whining begrudgingly. “Let’s fix it tomorrow? Together?”

“Wait, no, I can – ”

Jaemin tosses the tool across the living area, knowing Jeno would be too tired to get up for it. He tugs his stubborn boyfriend up onto his feet, promising sweetly, “Tomorrow, okay? It’ll be a new day, and – you’ve already fixed the shelf and the dining table, right? You don’t have to – ”

“I know, but – ” Jeno interrupts, eyes a little hazy and unclear. Probably from all the hours he’d spend trying to decipher IKEA’s simple, yet confusing, building instructions. “You’ve got the kitchen and the bathrooms all set up, and you fixed the bedroom with new sheets and throw pillows and everything.” Jaemin holds his tongue, listening to him lament, “I only have the couch left, then our new apartment will – c _omplete_.”

 _Ah_ , Jaemin feels his heart melt. _That’s what this is about._

Jeno goes on, “I just have to – fix the legs to this, and get the backing on right, because I missed a couple of screws the first time, and I just – ”

“Babe,” Jaemin says, enamored by Jeno’s… impatience. “We don’t have to rush things, okay? This is – this is our first place together, the first time we’re living together, just the _two_ of us.” He grins, using his pointer fingers to push the corner of Jeno’s lips upwards, resulting in a very reluctant smile-grimace, “It’ll take us, days, _weeks_ , to set it all up, to make it feel like home, _our_ home. It – ”

“It doesn’t matter if we don’t have everything done on the first day in here. What matters is that we do it together, and that we do it the way we want it to be, not because it _has_ to be a certain way, okay?”

Jeno remains unsatisfied, but Jaemin doesn’t back down, still holding onto Jeno’s smile for him.

“Now, please stop working on this because I’m going to be really upset if you make me spend our first night in the same apartment _alone_.” Jaemin ignores the way Jeno pouts, letting his boyfriend’s cheeks go in favor of directing him towards the bathroom. “And you have to take a shower. Or two. The bedroom smells like lavender and I will not have you stinking it up with the smell of… pinewood.”

Jeno snorts, “Our first night together and you’re nagging me already?”

“Just be glad I’m not making you sleep on your unfixable couch, Lee Jeno.”

“But – I said I _could_ fix it! If you would just – ”

“ _No_ kisses until you’re out of the shower!”

Jaemin grins when he hears the water run.

 

 

 

 

 


	16. disneyland - dotae - fluff

“Stop sulking – you’re sucking the happiness out of that Winnie the Pooh stuffie.”

Doyoung shoves the plush toy back onto the shelf, uncaring of how distorted it now looks, leg all up in its face. He spins on his heel to glare down at Taeyong, irritation rising when he notices Taeyong’d gotten a tiny face painting of a honey pot on his left cheek in that five minutes he’d been gone,

“Why did I even agree to this? Why are we here?”

“Well, I mean – because you love me, for one, but also because it’s my birthday!” Taeyong announces, as if the big, lime-green _Hi! It’s my birthday today!_ badge stabbed into his shirt isn’t obvious enough.

“I know _that_ ,” Doyoung grimaces. “I mean – why are we _here_? In Disneyland, Yong – you’re turning twenty-five, not _five_. We could’ve had a good enough time at _home_ together, or even a stay overnight at a nice hotel, or – a place with alcohol that doesn’t cost more than a full meal.”

“But – Disneyland is the happiest place on planet earth!” Taeyong bounces excitedly, throwing his hands up in the air. “There’s no place better than Disneyland.”

Doyoung stares incredulously at his boyfriend – his tiny _boyfriend_ with two lanyards looped around his neck, one attached to another _It’s my birthday!_ medal, and the other to a Mr. Potato Head bucket filled with sweet popcorn.

“C’mon _please_ , we just got here, give it a chance!”

“Exactly. We _just_ got here, and –” Doyoung rolls his eyes, “Minhyung and his boyfriend are already off having their own little date, Youngho’s making Taeil sit on all the _rides_ including that dumb teacup one, and Yuta’s probably dragged Jaehyun into the Haunted Mansion to make-out the moment the lights turn down – is this really how you planned to spend your birthday?”

“Everyone’s having fun, I don’t care,” Taeyong shrugs, popping the lid open and grabbing a handful of popcorn. “Besides, I’m going to have fun with you, aren’t I?” Doyoung refuses to agree to it, watching Taeyong’s eyes sparkle, “Or are you actually completely incapable of having any fun at all?”

“I – have _fun_ , I’m a fun person, alright. I am not – ”

Taeyong grins, “Uptight and boring?”

Doyoung groans, “Forget it, I’ll just wait for you in the gift shop. Call me when – ”

“Hey, wait a second.” Taeyong grabs him before he can make it past the pyramid of Eeyore printed fleece blankets. Doyoung glares at the fake tree by the fake pile of rocks, “Doyoung, what’s – are you actually mad that we’re here? Seriously?”

Doyoung tugs his wrist free, but Taeyong catches him again, curving an arm around his waist, effectively killing off all plans of escape Doyoung’d thought up in that split second. Taeyong frowns, pink lips tilted up at Doyoung in a perfect pout. He kisses Doyoung quickly on the cheek, still holding them close together, trying to read the situation.

“I thought you said you liked Disneyland?” A lady with a pram and four screaming children brush past, and Taeyong ushers them towards the corner, holding Doyoung captive. “Were you being serious when you said you didn’t want to come? Are you – really going to leave?”

“ _Yes_.” Doyoung grumbles, “No.”

Taeyong rests a hand Mr. Potato Head’s head, “Well? Which is it?”

“I just – ” Doyoung speaks lowly, his ears rushing red, “I don’t want to spend your birthday here, okay?”

Taeyong blinks, “Why not?”

“I don’t know,” Doyoung groans. “I just – I hate taking rides and I know you love them, and it’s your birthday and everyone else has gone off doing their own thing, and – I don’t want you taking them alone. That’s – it’s your _birthday_ , Taeyong, and I can’t even – stop thinking about myself and sit on a sixty second ride with my boyfriend, who I _love_ more than anything, but – rides just make me so – ”

“Hey, hey, wait,” he places his palms on Doyoung’s chest, feeling his heartrate speed at just the mention of rollercoasters. “I never – I’m not going to make you take the rollercoasters with me, I’m – ”

“I don’t want you going alone, Taeyong, I – ”

“Doyoung.” The boy clamps his mouth shut, looking oddly like a little puppy. Taeyong inches closer, as close as they can get with a popcorn bucket between them. “I don’t have to take the rollercoasters to have fun, okay? I – we can watch the shows, walk the shops… There are plenty of things we can do here that don’t involve buckling you to a machine cart and hurtling you a hundred miles an hour, alright?”

“But I know you want to take the rides, I just – ”

Taeyong kisses him, and Doyoung’s argument dies in his throat. He completely loses his train of thought the moment Taeyong slips him a sliver of tongue, pulling away before Doyoung can ask for more,

“I want to spend my birthday in the happiest place on earth with the one person that makes me the happiest on earth, so will you please – not say you’ll leave?”

Doyoung sighs, still frustrated at himself for being so – _sensitive_ on rides. Even the little, baby ones.

“You can’t leave,” Taeyong juts out his lower lip. “You’re my boyfriend and it’s my birthday, and I won’t allow you to just wait for me in the gift shop, that’s dumb. You’re supposed to have fun with me.”

“I wasn’t – ” Doyoung reaches to toy with Taeyong’s lanyard. The medal clinks noisily against the plastic bucket. “I’m not going to leave, of course, I – I was just – wanted you to have fun.”

Taeyong kisses him again, smiling into it. “You’re sweet,” he pushes the popcorn bucket out of the way to hug Doyoung proper, “But I’ll have fun without the rides. I’ll have fun with you, Mr. Uptight and Boring.”

“Oh, _please_ – ”

“Besides,” Taeyong goes on his tiptoes, lips ghosting the shell of Doyoung’s ear,

“The only ride I really like riding is _you_.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos/comments appreciated! ;;


	17. lip gloss - markhyuck - fluff

Minhyung doesn’t think he’s daft.

He does well in school, he works hard to keep his starting line-up spot on the university’s basketball team, and he holds a part-time job with a mediocre pay at the campus’ café. He juggles work and school and a good enough social life too; hiking with Jeno and Renjun, going to live gigs with Jaemin and Jisung.

Minhyung is not someone without sense.

Though, he can’t say that whenever his boyfriend of four-and-a-half weeks decides to traipse into the café while he’s nearing the end of a grueling six-hour shift, clad in ripped jeans with too many rips and a silk button-up shirt with too many buttons undone.

Immediately, Minhyung’s brain fries.

“Surprise, bubby,” Donghyuck grins, sliding up to the counter. His hair is messy and tousled and perfect even after a long day of lectures, brown-blonde and just mesmerizing. Minhyung’s eyes follow the way it flops around when Donghyuck runs a thin hand through it, reading off the menu board. They travel down the slope of Donghyuck’s nose, and to his cupid’s bow, then to the curve of his lips, glossed prettily like they always are.

He briefly wonders if the gloss is flavoured. Donghyuck likes to use the cherry-ish ones.

“Hey. What – can I get you today?”

 Minhyung slaps himself. Mentally.

“Hmm, I was going to try that special summer tea drink, but I don’t know – I think I might need a little more caffeine today?”

Minhyung tries, _tries_ not to fawn over his boyfriend, which is a really hard thing to do, because, well… this is _Donghyuck._ The boy Minhyung’d been dreaming for weeks about, the boy that made him walk into two telephone poles in succession while staring at him from across the street, the boy that listened with earnest when Minhyung’d confessed in a nervous, ten-minute long speech that might as well have been accompanied with detailed presentation slides and a fifteen-page brochure.

It’s pure luck that Donghyuck’d thought it to be sweet, and not at all… creepy.

Butterflies still invade his stomach whenever he catches sight of Donghyuck, even after four-and-a-half weeks of hand holding and hugging and cuddling and kissing – oh my _god_ , the _kissing_.

Minhyung stomps on his left foot with his right, ignoring how his mind’s screaming at him to take Donghyuck into the break room and kiss him silly for the remainder of his shift.

Which they’ve done before. A handful of times, to his manager’s dismay.

“The usual?”

“You know me so well,” Donghyuck sends a wink his way, leaning over the counter for what is very apparently a kiss to Minhyung’s cheeks.

Ears burning, Minhyung dodges, reaching over unnecessarily far for a plastic cup. He swallows thickly, tone clipped. “One caramel latte. That’ll be five fifty.”

The ten-dollar bill in Donghyuck’s hand falters, much like his voice, “Oh.”

“Y – yes,” Minhyung punches the order into the register with a little too much effort. He takes the bill with a sweaty hand, feeling a break of nervous jitters when he notices how closely Donghyuck’s staring at him. He blanks out for a second, unable to think with all the attention purely on him. Hurriedly, he digs around for the right amount of change, dropping it into Donghyuck’s open palm. “I’ll make it for you right now.”

“Wha – wait, Min – ”

A girl walks in then, heading straight for the register, and Minhyung hands Donghyuck the receipt, mumbling awkwardly under his breath, “Sorry, I have to – there’s another customer.”

Before Donghyuck can question him, Minhyung moves to serve the next person in line, avoiding the odd look Donghyuck sends his way. Moving on autopilot, he takes three more orders before making them all at the same time, hands still trembling with anxiousness as he goes, feeling a pair of eyes bore holes into the back of his head.

He brings all the drinks to the pick-up counter, serving them to their rightful owners, and eventually finding himself to be left with a single caramel latte in his hand. Donghyuck steps up to the counter smoothly, wearing an expression that Minhyung can’t seem to read.

“Thanks,” Donghyuck says shortly, taking the drink. “See you.”

 _Wait_ , Minhyung acts without thinking, or speaking for the matter, grabbing Donghyuck’s wrist. He very rightfully panics when Donghyuck twists his hand free, drink sloshing around the clear cup.

“I – ” Minhyung stuns at the look of confusion Donghyuck sends him. “Are you leaving? Already?”

“Yes.” Something flickers across Donghyuck’s expression, “Why?”

“I thought – ” Minhyung grips the counter hard, “Maybe we could have dinner? Together?”

Donghyuck frowns, “What?” Minhyung watches with his lips parted, not knowing quite what to say next, listening when Donghyuck questions, “I thought you weren’t happy that I – came by. I mean – ” He clears his throat, eyes dropping to the ground, “You avoided me when I – I mean, when I tried to – ” Another cough, “What – whatever, I should just go.”

“Hyuck, no,” Minhyung stares in astonishment, and a little abashed. “I just – sorry, but you still make me nervous.” Donghyuck blinks, waiting with patience, “It sounds really – dumb, but you still make my brain go all messy and I feel like I can’t function with you – around, it’s not – I’m not mad that you came by, I’m actually – really happy that you did.”

Donghyuck’s frown turns upwards into a teasing smile, disbelief coloring his voice, “Min, I just wanted to see you – what could you possibly be nervous about?”

“Kissing you,” he blurts it out like it’s general knowledge, wishing he could run away when Donghyuck guffaws, _loud_.

Minhyung shies away, retreating further behind the counter, forcing Donghyuck to near jump over it in an attempt to get his doof of a boyfriend to stay, “Wait, wait – ” He takes a breath, holding in his giggles. “I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to laugh, I just – we’ve kissed a hundred times, Min, you know that, right?”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t still make me nervous,” he grumbles in return, easing up anyway. He likes it when Donghyuck laughs, even if it’s at him; it makes him feel all warm and fluffy inside. Donghyuck has that quality to him. “You make me feel – things, I don’t know, but it’s like a good kind of nervous.”

“Okay, then – why don’t you – ” Donghyuck glances around the café, turning back to Minhyung with a smirk, “Take me to the break room, so that I can kiss you til’ you aren’t nervous anymore.”

(Minhyung later thoroughly finds out that Donghyuck’s lip gloss _is_ cherry flavoured.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos/comments appreciated! ;;


	18. canon au/headphones - dotae - fluff

“You can’t pick the movie – we have a system, Doyoung, I get to pick the movie tonight.”

Taeyong’s ears perk up, hearing the commotion in the living room echo its way down the hall and into the bathroom, where he’s readying for bed.

It’s a Saturday night, which means it’s movie night at the dorm, with plain popcorn and heath drinks they wished were alcohol. He doesn’t usually take part in it, preferring instead to work on his lyrics with Minhyung or together with Taeil on the demos he’d composed, but it’s a weekly ritual for the members, and it isn’t odd to hear arguments over what they were going to spend the next two hours watching.

“But you guys are always picking scary movies, and I don’t want to watch a scary movie – so I’m going to pick the movie tonight.”

He hears Yuta scoff, “Yes, but consider this – we have a system, a roster. And the system says it’s my turn to pick tonight, and I’m going to pick _Silence of the Lambs._ ”

“It’s a good movie, Doyoung,” Youngho’s voice comes next. “It’s not that scary, honestly.”

“That’s what you said about the last movie you guys picked!”

“C’mon, Kim, don’t be so difficult. It’s just one movie, okay?”

Taeyong sighs to himself when he hears Doyoung give in, knowing that everyone in the dorms will regret it within the next half hour when Doyoung is whining at the haunting music and screaming at the top of his lungs at every jump-scare that follows.

He’s well-aware of how afraid and bothered his boyfriend gets during horror movies, but Taeyong’s also well-aware of how stubborn Doyoung is when it comes to his pride. For that, he retreats into his room, leaving his door unlocked, just for good measure.

It’s two pages worth of poetic words Taeyong’d written that he sees the door to his room crack open the slightest, allowing the light from the hallway to seep in. He looks up, not at all surprised to see Doyoung hovering by the frame, bottom lip tugged between his teeth.

Taeyong plucks the left side of his headphones out, “You okay over there?”

“Fine,” Doyoung answers shortly. “Just – hello.”

“Hello to you too then.” Taeyong turns back to his lyrics, hiding a grin when he sees panic flash across Doyoung’s face. They’re both familiar with what happens next, seeing as it happens whenever the others insist on a movie that seems to scare Doyoung out of his wits. Outside, they hear Youngho groan in disgust, followed by a shriek that can only possibly be from Minhyung.

At that, Doyoung moves at breakneck speed, slamming the door shut behind him and flying across the small room in three ridiculously large steps, jumping into Taeyong’s bed and diving under the covers.

Taeyong turns in his rollerchair, a brow arched, “Comfy?”

“Please just get in bed,” Doyoung mumbles, pulling Taeyong’s comforter up til’ under his nose. He presses himself against the wall, leaving a large enough space, “Please?”

“You should really just avoid watching horror movies, y’know?” Taeyong gets to his feet anyway, taking his journal and phone with him to the bed. He climbs in with a quiet groan, and Doyoung latches onto him immediately, not sparing him even a second to settle in. With a bit of struggling, he manages to sit up with his back against the headboard, and Doyoung already half atop him. “Since they freak you out so badly.”

Doyoung buries his face into Taeyong’s torso, hooking a leg to one of Taeyong’s, needing the contact, “Youngho said it wasn’t scary.”

Taeyong snorts, “Youngho also watches the _Saw_ movies without batting an eye, babe.”

Doyoung grumbles, pressing himself further into Taeyong, “Less scolding, more comforting.”

“There, there,” Taeyong says dryly, patting Doyoung’s hair gently. He plays with it for a while, fluffy and soft, until Doyoung’s shoulders are visibly less tensed, reaching to grab his journal instead. With his lap now filled with boyfriend, he places the journal gently on the top of Doyoung’s head instead, scribbling messily the handful of potential lyrics still floating around his mind, lest he forgets.

“I don’t recall being a bed tray in this lifetime,” he hears Doyoung complain, fidgeting about, preventing the use of his crown as a makeshift table for Taeyong.

Another round of shrieks explodes from the living room, and Doyoung immediately jolts forward, deeper into Taeyong’s embrace, as if they could get any closer.

“Want my headphones?”

Doyoung shakes his head, forcing Taeyong to pen off a line across the page, “Just – wanted to sleep here with you tonight.”

“You say it like you don’t sleep here _every_ night.”

“Don’t be mean – it’s movie night.”

Taeyong shuts his journal, figuring that he wouldn’t be able to get much done either way, what with his clingy boyfriend draped all over him. He sets it by the nightstand and scoots down to lie parallel to Doyoung, just a couple of inches above him, shifting them until Doyoung is snug tight, cheek to Taeyong’s chest.

“I wonder what the rest would say – ” Taeyong murmurs, going back to playing with Doyoung’s hair, black in the dark. “If they knew you’d come here for hugs whenever you’d get too scared.”

“They probably already know,” Doyoung answers, breathing Taeyong in. “And I don’t only come here for hugs.”

“Really?” Taeyong hums. “What else do you come here for then?”

“You.” Doyoung tilts his head up, a little unusual since he has that much more leg than Taeyong, though it’s comfortable when they’re lying together. “And for kisses.”

Taeyong inches closer, but not yet close enough, “And should I give them to you?”

“You say it like you don’t give me kisses _every_ night.”

And Doyoung brings their lips together for a chaste kiss, sweet albeit fleeting,

(with several more that makes his toe curl and blood surge.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos, comments appreciated! ;;


	19. moving day - noren - fluff

“Dear, if you get any thirsty, there’s some chrysanthemum in the fridge for you boys, alright?”

Renjun looks up from where he’s properly arranging Jeno’s new bookcase, by author and genre. Mrs. Lee stands by the door frame, peeking in with a smile on her face. She has her hair tied up in a long ponytail, leaving her face free of any strays, and it’s in that moment that Renjun remembers where Jeno gets his pretty looks from.

“Thanks, Mrs. Lee,” he returns politely, smiling until she retreats into the hallway. He goes back to sorting the books in the current box he’s working on, the second of four, filled to the brim with books of all kinds. As much as he endeared Jeno’s love for books, sorting tens of them isn’t how he’d expected his Saturday morning to go.

Though, he didn’t mind much, helping Jeno move into the new place his family had gotten. It’s a nice house, two floors with two extra bedrooms and en suites for all the rooms too. Jeno’d picked the color of his room walls to be white, so that they wouldn’t have to be painted over, reasoning that it wouldn’t make sense to spend on it, knowing that he’d be off to college soon anyway.

In fact, he’d been very lackluster about moving suburbs, unwilling to let go of his childhood home. It’d taken almost a week for Jeno to come clean about why he’d been sulking about it, revealing that he was upset about leaving his friends for a new neighborhood a drive a half hour away. Renjun was empathetic about it, knowing how many memories they’d made, them and the others, just by growing up as neighbors.

In an effort to make the day easier on his boyfriend, Renjun’d dedicated his entire week and weekend to helping Jeno up and move. The others offered extra hands, but Jeno’d refused, knowing how they’d need to travel so far out and then back, late in the night, settling instead to have dinner in the city together.  

“This is the last of them,” Jeno announces, striding into the room with a large box and two IKEA bags hanging from his shoulders. “Finally.”

Renjun steps away from the bookcase to help Jeno out lest he pulls a muscle, grabbing the IKEA bags and resting them on the rug by the bed. Jeno leaves the box by his brand-new desk, stretching his arms over his head with a loud groan. He moves to flop face first onto his already made bed, but Renjun grabs him quickly by the back of his shirt,

“You’re all stinky,” he chides. “Those sheets just came out of the dryer.”

“Did they?” Jeno mumbles tiredly, twisting around to face Renjun, frown presumably permanent.

“They did,” Renjun nods, releasing Jeno’s shirt in favor of pressing his palm to Jeno’s cheek gently, concern doubling when he grazes the pad of his thumb over Jeno’s dark eye circles. “How’re you holding up, babe?”

“Fine,” he’s told. “Tired, that’s all.”

Renjun glances around the room, nearly three-quarters ready, “Hang tight, we’re just about done.”

Jeno snorts, keening into Renjun’s touch, then moving to rest his hands on Renjun’s hips, over the band of his jeans, “ _You’re_ just about done, more like… you’ve probably put more effort into this room than I have.”

“Well,” he sighs, leaning in to kiss Jeno quickly. He grins when he opens his eyes to see Jeno chasing after his lips on instinct, “I just wanted to help. You still seem – kinda down about this.” At Jeno’s silence, Renjun takes the chance to reiterate himself, “Nothing’s going to change, okay? You moving houses doesn’t mean _anything’s_ going to change – you’re only a half hour away.”

“I know,” Jeno grumbles anyway. “But it’d still be different. We wouldn’t be just two streets apart, Hyuck wouldn’t be a five-minute walk away, Jaemin wouldn’t be three houses down. It’s just – different. I don’t appreciate _different_.”

“Not many people appreciate different, or change,” Renjun reminds softly. “But I’ll promise you, nothing’s going to, alright?” Jeno’s frown remains, “Minhyung drives, and so will I in a couple of weeks – it’s not like we’re going to hang out without you, you know that.”

Jeno groans again, pulling way, “But it’s such a hassle to come all the way out here to – ”

“Hey,” Renjun calls, tugging Jeno back into place. “A half hour’s drive is honestly nothing, and there are new places around here too… We’ll all hang out here with you, so stop thinking we won’t. If we meet at Hyuck or Jaem’s place, I’ll come get you –

“No matter how far – I’ll come get you, alright?”

Jeno stares at him for a second, expressionless and unemotional like Renjun’d assumed he’d be.

“You’ve spent too long of a time with those books,” Jeno comments dryly, a lazy grin stretching across his lips. “You’ve absorbed their cheesy lines, haven’t you?”

Renjun narrows his eyes, “I just spent the entire day arranging your room, Lee Jeno, and you have the _nerve_ to call me – ”

“Alright, alright,” he caves, predictably easy. He gives Renjun a kiss for his good work, “I take it back; I appreciate you offering to go through the hassle to come get me while I live a half hour away from everyone else, basically on a different planet, really.”

“Jeno – ”

“I’m just kidding – it’s just going to take a while to get used to,” he shrugs, smiling tightly. “Don’t worry, I promise I’ll be fine.” And when Renjun still looks unconvinced, “I love you. And I mean it when I said I appreciate you.” He glances around the room, ready and decorated by Renjun to Jeno’s taste, “You and everything you do.”

Renjun rolls his eyes, “Now who’s the cheesy one!”

“ _Hey_ , you were looking at me all concerned and – ”

“I won’t be any more concerned then,” Renjun scoffs, flicking at Jeno’s shoulder, ignoring the pout he gets in return. “So, get to unpacking because dinner’s in an hour and you really need a shower, stinky.”

Jeno huffs, “I’m still sad, y’know?”

He gives Jeno another kiss, “And I still love you, stinky.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments, kudos appreciated! ;;


	20. fake flowers - dotae - fluff

“What are these?”

Doyoung swallows thickly, “They’re flowers. For you. Flowers that I got – for you.”

Taeyong stares at the bouquet, unimpressed, “They’re fake.”

“I know!” He rushes to explain, refusing to let himself slip up again, “I – I mean, you don’t do well with plants, and you’ve always talked about how much of a hassle caring for flowers are – so I thought – ”

“These are _fake_ flowers, Doyoung.” The bunch of them are shoved back into Doyoung’s chest.

“Do you know who fake flowers are for?” Taeyong hisses, agitatedly packing up his things, stuffing them into his canvas tote without a care. “Dead people, Doyoung. Fake flowers are for _dead_ people.” Taeyong slams his laptop shut, and two teenagers by the adjacent table flinch, head lowered and very obviously eavesdropping, “So if you’re trying to tell me that this relationship is _dead_ to you – great, because you’re doing a really good job at it.”

Doyoung splutters, “That’s not what I meant at all, I just – ”

“Forget it, I’ll – talk to you another day, I honestly can’t deal with this today.”

Doyoung scampers out of his seat, tucking the admittedly pathetic bouquet of fake pink and orange flowers under an arm, nearly tripping over his own two feet in a rush to follow Taeyong out of the café.

“Taeyong, wait – ”

“ _No_ ,” Taeyong snaps, whirling on his heels to glare at Doyoung menacingly, as much as he can muster from within his tiny frame. “And you know what? Forget what I said because even dead people get _real_ flowers, Doyoung, they get stands and rows of fresh flowers and you get me – _fake_ flowers! Are you kidding me?”

Doyoung babbles, feeling the stares of other passerbys seep deep into his skin, “I thought – ”

“Just – stop,” Taeyong sighs heavily, adjusting his tote to sit higher up on his shoulder, “And just forget about it, okay, I don’t care anymore – so let’s just stop talking about it.”

“You clearly still care,” Doyoung mumbles, frowning deeply. Taeyong says nothing, and he takes the chance to close the distance between them. The hideous flowers are bright in his peripheral, but Doyoung cares not for it, focusing instead on Taeyong’s furrowed brows, “I’m still so sorry – it’s just – I promised Donghyuck – ”

“Yeah, well, you promised _me_ ,” Taeyong scoffs, turning again to leave, stopped by Doyoung’s hand on his elbow. “Seriously, let go of me, I’m – ”

“I _forgot_ , Yong, please?” Doyoung argues, sidestepping to face his still fuming boyfriend. “I know it was a dinner for your work and I said I would go with, and I am _so_ sorry that I forgot, but it was Donghyuck’s first gig – and everything was so hectic, and Minhyung wanted to have a big celebration after – I couldn’t not go, I’m sorry, I – just – ”

“You could’ve told me,” Taeyong snarls, yanking his elbow free. “You could’ve _told_ me that you weren’t coming! You could’ve called, texted, left a _voicemail_ , Doyoung, so that I didn’t have to spend three hours telling my colleagues that my boyfriend, my loving boyfriend that I brag _so_ much about, was going to turn up when you weren’t!”

“I looked like – an idiot, did you know? Waiting for you to walk through those doors? Ordering for you too? I was so embarrassed that I _ordered_ your meal for you and then I had to pack it home, Doyoung!”

“So just – leave me alone – I can’t – ”

Doyoung winces, but he’s not about to let Taeyong fume off again. Instead, he pulls Taeyong close, even as they stand in the middle of the sidewalk under the heat of the afternoon sun, holding onto him tightly.

Expectedly, Taeyong fights it, pressing his palms against Doyoung’s chest, “What are you – I’m _mad_ at you, Doyoung, don’t just – ”

“I know,” he mumbles, covering Taeyong’s hand in his other, halting the movement. “I know you’re mad, and you’ve been mad for a while now, and you say it’s because I didn’t go to the dinner, but is that it?”

“Of _course_ that’s _it_ , you big _idiot_ , I swear – ”

“Or are you mad that I went to Donghyuck’s gig instead?” He asks, quietly, equally afraid of the reaction that could surface. Taeyong stills, bringing his hands into fists and keeping them close to his chest. Doyoung relaxes, melding into spaces still between them, “I didn’t _pick_ the kiddos over you, Taeyong, you know that, right? You know that I genuinely forgot about the dinner, and that I’m sorry?”

Unexpectedly, however, Taeyong rolls his eyes, “Oh, shut _up_ , Kim Doyoung, I’m not jealous over your other friends, you can hang out with them whenever you want!”

Doyoung stuns, _Right._

“I’m not about to dictate who you should decide to hang out with,” Taeyong bristles, glaring up at Doyoung, fierce even with just inches between them, “I’m _mad_ that you didn’t tell me you weren’t coming, and now you’re trying to apologize with fake flowers!”

Doyoung gapes, “But I – ”

“Kim Doyoung, we’ve been dating for three _years_ , not three months, alright, are you messing with me right now?” Taeyong deadpans. “When have you ever gotten me _fake_ flowers!”

“You – ” Doyoung mumbles, “You’re not jealous that I went to hang out with the others instead? Or worried?”

“No.” Taeyong is nothing but confident, “Or are you telling me that there’s something I _need_ to be worried about?”

“Absolutely _not_ ,” he returns, shaking his head. “I just thought – ”

“Oh, forget it, it doesn’t matter anyway,” Taeyong groans, curling his arms around Doyoung’s waist, tired from their few days of cold war. It’s hard to keep apart for so long when they’re so used to being all over another, Doyoung knows. Taeyong frowns up at his sulking boyfriend, “What? Did you _want_ me to be jealous?”

“No,” Doyoung juts out his lower lip. “I just thought – fake flowers would be a good idea.”

“That is literally your worst idea ever.”

Doyoung grumbles unintelligibly, “Does this mean you forgive me? Because I actually, really am sorry that I forgot.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Taeyong hums, losing the fight in him. “Buy me ice cream and I’ll forgive you. And don’t ever buy me fake flowers again, honestly.”

Doyoung stares begrudgingly at the plastic bouquet in his hands, “Just ice cream?”

“And kiss me,” Taeyong demands, presenting his lips readily. “You haven’t kissed me in days.”

“Well, that’s because you were mad and I – ”

“Three years together, Doyoung – the answer is ice cream and kisses, okay?”

(Doyoung buys him three tubs of expensive ice cream and they spend the rest of the day sharing kisses, amongst other things.)

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos, comments appreciated ;;


	21. a baby - dotae - fluff

“Here, hold on to this – ”

Taeyong reaches out blindly as instructed, tips of his fingers coming into contact with the box of popcorn. He grabs onto it properly, eyes still slowly adjusting to the darkness of the movie theatre. Beside him, Doyoung is fidgeting, trying to seat their two-year-old carefully on his lap.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Taeyong whispers, smoothening the front of Donghyuck’s tiny duck embroidered sweater, patting him gently on the tummy. Donghyuck fusses for more popcorn, but Taeyong hides it away, having already given him two handfuls more than necessary when they were out waiting in the foyer. To Doyoung, he says, “The movie’s going to be close to two hours long… maybe we should’ve bought him a ticket – are you sure you’ll be alright?”

“Yeah, baby,” Doyoung huffs, still distracted with Donghyuck’s baby booties, branded _Adidas_ , courtesy of Uncle Youngho, fumbling to have the boy seated comfortably. He leans back into the plush seat, guiding Donghyuck to rest against his chest, “It’s just a movie, we’re going to be fine.”

The only reason they’re making the effort to catch a movie in the theatres is purely because Doyoung’d overheard Taeyong grumbling over the phone about having yet stepped foot into a theatre the entire year (it’s December; they figured it would be a good chance to take Donghyuck to the theatres for the first time too.

It’s a kids’ movie, something new, something animated, probably funny, probably Pixar, but neither of them are really concerned with what they’re going to be watching for the next two hours, not when they’re most likely just going to be watching Donghyuck anyway.

Taeyong sighs, eyeing his husband and son closely. He kisses Donghyuck on the forehead for being Donghyuck, and Doyoung on the forehead for being Doyoung, “ – okay.”

Contrary to Doyoung’s confident belief, they did _not_ make it through the movie fine.

It’s twenty minutes in that Donghyuck is wailing, baby self shocked by the loud noises and flashing graphics. Taeyong tries to calm him with measly popcorn, but Donghyuck is resilient in his fear, almost screaming into Doyoung’s chest, fists pounding against his shoulders. Sorry and worried for Donghyuck’s throat, they make the decision to leave the theatre, forgetting wholly about the movie.

They find themselves at the arcade next door, taking a still sobbing Donghyuck to look at crane machines filled with Pokémon, rhythm games with unintelligible lyrics, four different kinds of whack-a-mole machines, and others of the like. It’s not too busy, being eight on a Tuesday night, and Taeyong is relieved that it’s relatively quiet enough for Donghyuck to calm down.

“Well, that was a bust,” Doyoung says, adjusting Donghyuck to sit higher on his hip. He leans close to one of the crane machines filled with Peppa Pigs, letting the two-year-old rest his palms against the glass, breath fogging it up.

Taeyong shakes his head, feeding Doyoung with popcorn when he’s sure Donghyuck’s distracted enough, “It’s okay – I didn’t even know what the movie was going to be about.”

“Maybe he’s still too young for the movies,” Doyoung wonders, chewing quickly. He bounces a little when Donghyuck presses his forehead to the machine, eyes focused on the array of stuffed pigs. “Are you too young for the movies, Hyuckie?”

“Pig pig,” is the only coherent answer he gets.

“I’m sorry,” Doyoung says quietly, looking to Taeyong with a small smile. “This is a sad excuse for a date, huh?”

“Why’re you sorry – it’s a family date,” Taeyong shrugs, picking out the buttery popcorns and feeding them to Doyoung. He keeps the sweet ones for himself, “It isn’t just you, me and midnight movies anymore, babe, I know that.”

“I know,” Doyoung chews thoughtfully. “I just thought you were upset – that we haven’t had a proper date in a while.”

Taeyong looks up from his excavation of sweet popcorn, “I’m not – upset? We’re a family now, we have a _baby_ together, I’m not – ”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Doyoung interjects quickly, sighing when Taeyong frowns. He dips forward to kiss Taeyong quickly, careful not to startle Donghyuck. “I just meant that we haven’t been on a _date_ date in a long while… and I miss it,” he smiles, “I miss you, dating you.”

“You see me every day,” Taeyong scoffs, but he doesn’t fight the grin that surfaces. “And we’re _married_ , Doyoung, you can’t _miss_ me – I’m always here.”

Doyoung rolls his eyes, “You can’t take a compliment for nuts, you know that, right?”

“I’m flattered my husband wants to go on a date with me,” Taeyong deadpans. He laughs when Doyoung groans, going on his tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek, “We can always leave Hyuck with Youngho and Taeil for a night – go on a _date_ date, just you and me? I’m sure bubby will be fine with them for an evening?”

Doyoung narrows his eyes, “Lee Taeyong, are you asking _me_ out on a date!”

“You’re such a geek,” Taeyong snorts, moving to brush the hair out of Donghyuck’s eyes as he whines for a chance at the machine. “I don’t know why I love you so much.”

“I mean – ” Doyoung shrugs, “ _You_ agreed to marry me, so – ”

“And I’ve never regretted a day,” Taeyong hums, kissing Doyoung sweetly.

“I love you too, by the way,” Doyoung returns, taking another kiss Taeyong willingly gives.

Taeyong grins, tasting the buttery taste of popcorn meld with the sweetness on his tongue, “I take it that you’ll go on that date with me, then?”

“Do you even need to ask?” Doyoung angles Donghyuck away from the machine before he tries to lick the glass.

Taeyong kisses him again, “Will you date me or not?”

“I’m going to be dating you for the rest of my life, Lee Taeyong.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments, kudos appreciated! ;; related to [this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35314539)!


	22. headphones - johnil - fluff

“Are we lost?” Taeil peers over Youngho’s arm, too trying to make sense of the foreign words scattered across the crumpled map. Youngho ignores him, bringing the flimsy brochure closer to his face, as if the way back to their next Airbnb would magically diffuse into his frontal lobe. “We’re lost, aren’t we?”

Youngho grumbles, words incomprehensible.

Taeil sighs, pulling away to fish for his phone from the backpack on Youngho, “There should be Wi-Fi here, I could send Yuta a text and maybe he’ll be able to help – ”

“We’re not _lost_ ,” Youngho sulks, inching away from Taeil’s hands before he can even reach the zipper of their shared bag. Taeil tuts, and Youngho tells him, “I just –  we took the train in the wrong direction.”

Taeil frowns, “I thought we were taking the Shinkansen today? That express train?”

“We are,” Youngho mumbles. He folds the brochure up and moves to study the board of complicated train lines. “We had to get to the station the Shinkansen stops at, but we were on the wrong platform – so we went in the wrong direction.”

 _Oh_ , “That’s okay,” Taeil shrugs, “We can just take the same train back to the right station.”

“Yeah,” Youngho sighs, running a hand through his fluffy hair. Taeil reaches to pat the cowlick down, giving a tuft of hair a gentle tug before letting it fall through his fingers, “But the next train comes in fifteen minutes, and our Shinkansen tickets are for the ones leaving in a half hour – I don’t know if we’ll make it.”

Taeil tugs Youngho away from the board, now that they have an actual plan for getting to their next destination, and towards one of the many benches lining the platform. Youngho sits heavily onto the plastic seat, still grumbling under his breath.

“Don’t worry,” Taeil says, twining their fingers together. He leans on Youngho, tilting his head to press a small kiss to Youngho’s shoulder, over his soft cotton tee. “We’ll make the train, and if we don’t – we can always take the next one.”

“I know.” Another sigh, “But I planned so much to do in Osaka, and we only have two nights before we’ve to move cities… I don’t want to waste a whole day on travelling.”

Taeil closes his eyes, breathing deeply. Frankly, when Youngho’d proposed that their honeymoon be a two-week long trip to Japan, visiting the different cities and sceneries, he’d already known how hectic it would be. As much as Youngho likes to insist he’s laid back, it’s different when it comes to travelling, something they’ve done often together. He liked to see and do as much as he can every single day, not wanting to skip out on anything a certain country has to offer, while Taeil thought it would just be fine walking the streets and having good food.

Not that Taeil minded much, being dragged around; he’s always wanted to visit Japan, hearing about it from Yuta and Jaehyun, who now live in Osaka together. Touring around new places with Youngho and being in a completely different country with just them two together – Taeil would enjoy anywhere with Youngho, really, he isn’t picky.

What more, it’s their _honeymoon_. Taeil knows how long Youngho’s spent on Tripadvisor and on Facetime with Jaehyun and his broken Japanese, trying to plan and perfect these fourteen days. If it’s Taeil’s job to simply follow along and have a good time, he’ll do his best to do just that.

“It’ll be fine,” Taeil hums. Youngho doesn’t budge, choosing instead to fiddle with Taeil’s hand, foot tapping against the ground anxiously. Taeil uses his free hand to get his phone from the backpack, a pair of headphones looped around it.

“You don’t have to text Yuta,” Youngho says, watching Taeil unravel them. “I know where we’re supposed to be going now.”

“I’m not texting him,” Taeil says, plugging the audio jack in with a little difficulty. He offers the left side to Youngho, who takes it without question, and takes the right, “Might as well listen to some music, since we’re waiting.”

Taeil flicks through the slew of Spotify playlists he has saved, tapping on the shared one he has with Youngho – one of the cheesiest things they do together, a secret they’ll take to their graves. They’ll never hear the end of it if any of their friends were to find out they had a couple playlist for all their favorite love songs – oh my _god_.

He hits shuffle, and sets his phone down on his lap, curling more into Youngho’s side.

It’s just past eleven in the morning, which means the platform is free from the working crowd heading to work, and from the mass of students rushing to school. Taeil takes the moment in; just the two of them, on their honeymoon, their _honeymoon_!

Just the two of them, and quiet. Just the two of them, and nothing else.

And it’ll be like this, for what Taeil hopes to be a long time.

“What are you thinking about?” Youngho asks, just as the first song comes to an end, fading out prettily.

Taeil looks up, meeting Youngho’s curious eyes, wide and endearing, “You. Us.”

Youngho’s brows jump, a small smirk pulling on his lips, plush, “Anything you’d like to share?”

“Nothing you don’t already know,” Taeil hums, sitting up to take Youngho’s lower lip between his own, tugging lovingly. “Love you. Even if we miss the train, even we miss ten other trains – as long as I’m with you, I love you.”

Youngho laughs softly, turning to kiss Taeil right, a hand coming up to steady him by the underside of his jaw.

“I could get used to this,” he murmurs, against Taeil’s lips. Taeil takes another deep breath, taking Youngho in, sweet and smelling like the hotel’s cherry blossom body wash, “The cheesy, Honeymoon version of Moon Taeil.”

“Just tell me you love me too, dummy.”

“I love you too, Moon Taeil.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos/comments appreciated ;; related to [this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15254121) yujae short!


	23. family - johnyong - fluff

“Care to explain why you’re out here sulking?”

Taeyong looks up from where he’s furiously texting Yuta, thumbs stilling, “What?”

“You. Out here,” his sister, Taejin, gestures at the empty lawn. She takes the seat on the outdoor couch beside him, “While your hotshot of a boyfriend is in there being the star of tonight’s dinner.”

“He can do whatever he wants,” Taeyong snorts, refocusing on the text he’s midway sending to Yuta. Unsurprisingly about the fact that Youngho is passing with flying colors at Taeyong’s monthly family gathering, while he completely _flunked_ at Youngho’s mother’s birthday celebration. “Brown-noser.”

“He’s your boyfriend!” She says, with incredulity. “You’re actually jealous that your boyfriend’s getting along with everyone?”

“Look,” Taeyong says flatly. “You weren’t the one that baked a chocolate hazelnut cake for an entire family plagued with a long history of peanut allergies, okay, don’t even start with me today.”

Taejin purses her lips, “It was just his second cousin that had the rashes, wasn’t it? You didn’t poison them, or anything!”

“I might as well have,” Taeyong groans. He turns in his seat, watching Youngho lean against the kitchen counter, laughing his endearing laugh as charms one of Taeyong’s many unsuspecting aunts. “His family hates me, I’ve already resigned to that fact.”

“Mom _loves_ Youngho, by the way,” Taejin sniffs. He glares at her, “She keeps wondering aloud why you hadn’t brought him home sooner. The best boyfriend you’ve brought home in a long while, she says.”

Taeyong screws his eyes shut, “He’ll honestly never stop talking about this.”

“You’re in such a bad mood, it’s ridiculous, Yong.”

“I just – ” He sighs heavily. “I wished I made a good impression too, okay? Plus,” he folds his arms across his chest, “ _plus_ – it’s Saturday night! Saturday night’s date night, forgive me for wanting to spend it with my boyfriend and not share him with Aunt Hyejin and her billions of dog pictures.”

“In her defense, she _does_ have almost a billion dogs.”

“Whatever, I just want to get out of – ”

“Incoming,” Taejin coughs, pressing her glass of soda to her lips.

The door slides open then, and Youngho’s fluffy head of dark, black hair peeps through the tiny opening, smiling happily, “Am I – interrupting?”  

“Not at all, I was just leaving.” Taejin motions Youngho to take her place, closing the door behind her after sending her brother a sarcastic thumbs-up.

“Missed you in there,” Youngho says, the moment it’s just them two. He takes Taeyong’s hand in both of his, “What are you doing, sitting out here on your own?”

“Nothing.” Taeyong shrugs, “Waiting for you finish impressing my entire family, I guess.”

Youngho laughs, tone with a teasing lilt, “Jealous?”

“You sound just like Taejin,” he complains, kicking the sole of Youngho’s shoe. “And I’m not _jealous_ – I just want to go home.”

“Ah,” Youngho hums. He adds, knowingly, “Don’t sulk, babe, I’m sure you’ll still be invited to the next of my family’s gatherings.”

“Right,” Taeyong scoffs. “Just so I can bake another cake that everyone can’t eat?”

Youngho tuts, throwing an arm around Taeyong’s shoulder, hugging him tightly, “Don’t – ”

“Can’t we just go home already?” Taeyong whines lowly, bringing Youngho’s hands up to his lips. “We’ll be here again next week for Taejin’s birthday, and we’ve already been here the entire _day_ – I want you to myself now.”

Youngho arches a brow, “Are you jealous that I’m getting along with your family or that I spent the day with them?”

“Both.”

“You’re funny,” Youngho tells him dryly. “If you can’t recall, we spent the entirety of last weekend in bed together, Taeyong.”

He blinks, “Yeah. That was _last_ weekend.”

Youngho sighs, pressing a quick kiss to Taeyong’s crown, “We can’t leave now – your aunt’s about to tell me all about the recipe to her famous blueberry cheesecake. And you love that cheesecake!”

“C’mon, Youngho – ”

“It’ll just be an hour more, I promise – ”

“An hour!” Taeyong groans, hooking a leg over Youngho’s lap. “I can’t wait that long.”

Youngho frowns, “What’re you in such a rush for?”

“It’s Saturday night,” Taeyong reminds him.

“And? What of it?”

“Saturday night, Youngho. Date night?” It’s at Youngho’s puzzled expression that Taeyong yanks him down for an open-mouthed kiss, tongue in Youngho’s mouth. He presses himself to Youngho’s chest, near clambering over his lap. “Saturday night,” he says, hot against Youngho’s lips,

“Date night, and date nights end in sex, if _you_ can’t recall.”

Youngho swallows thickly, already very bothered by one of Taeyong’s easy kisses.

“So?” Taeyong asks, impatient. He kisses Youngho again, inching dangerously close to his crotch. “Can we _please_ go?”

“I – I’ll just – uh, I’ll go give your aunt my email.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos, comments appreciated ;;


	24. canon au - nomin - fluff

Jeno rushes to his room the moment his shoes are off. The marble is slipper under his socked feet, and he nearly slams face first into Yukhei and his bowl of noodles, but he makes it to his room anyway, breathless and, quite frankly, freaking out.

He is a dancer. He sings and he raps, and there are many people out in the world who would say that he does these well. He is a _performer_ ; in front of hundreds, thousands, of people. In front of crowds so big that they’re merely a blur to him, on stages so wide that he has to run from one end to the other midway through a single song, in jeans so tight that his best friend is actually Minhyung’s abnormally large tub of Vaseline.

Jeno does not get anxious easy.

He loves the attention, the eyes on him, the cameras. He loves performing, he’s a _performer_.

Lee Jeno does _not_ get anxious easy.

Na Jaemin, however, likes to test his boundaries.

Most often, Jeno’s fine. Knowing glances that play off well as an indication of an inside joke, _I love you_ s that mean the same when he says it to Minhyung and Donghyuck, grins so bright and wide that Jeno can only do his best to keep his heartrate steady by looking away.

More often than not, Jeno can handle Na Jaemin. He’s handled Na Jaemin for years, it’s no big deal.

It’s the touching that gets Jeno anxious. It’s the gentle caresses to the cheek or the arm, and the squeezes on his thigh so high up that it is downright _ungodly_ , and the kisses Jaemin tries to give – oh my _god_ , Jeno’s heart literally can’t catch a break. It’s going to work itself into failure if Na Jaemin has the nerve to keep this up.

“Jeno? Are you okay?”

Without a doubt of who’s at the door, Jeno backpedals further into the room, until the back of his knees hit the corner of his bed. He wobbles, knees unbelievably weak, and near falls ungracefully onto bed – when a pair of hands grab at his arms, righting him.

“In a rush to get away?” Jaemin grins, smile bright, so _bright_ , even in the unlit room. The only source of light comes from down the hallway, where the rest of the team are still bumbling about, looking for food and debating on whether or not calling Doyoung to make them some is a good idea at near midnight.

“You can’t _do_ that,” Jeno hisses, jerking away from Jaemin. He shrugs his bag off his shoulders, and it thumps to the ground heavily. “You can’t – not – not on camera, Jaemin! That was _not_ okay.”

“I’m sure the fans will eat it all up,” Jaemin hums, looking very pleased with himself. He reaches for Jeno again, but his hand falls away when Jeno evades him once more. “It’s not a big deal – no one thinks it’s real anyway.”

“So, what?” Jeno bites, picking a fight, “You’re really doing all this just for the act of it? Even when it’s just the seven of us in the practice room? Even when it’s just us two together?”

“What?” The teasing from Jaemin’s voice dissipates, “No, of course not – I just meant – ”

“I know what you mean,” Jeno raises his hands, palms forward to keep Jaemin at a distance. “Just – stop being touchy with me, you’re confusing me – it’s confusing, okay? I don’t know what’s real and what’s not sometimes.”

“Everything is real, Jeno.” He takes Jeno’s hands without hesitation, placing them over his heart, speaking before Jeno gets to groan about how dramatic this is, “Everything is real, nothing is for show.” At Jeno’s silence, he questions, “You don’t believe me?”

“I do,” he mumbles. “I do, I didn’t mean that, I just – just cut me some slack, okay, you holding onto me while I’m trying to come up with witty comebacks – it does not help in the slightest. I can’t think, alright, just – don’t distract me all the time, I can’t think and you’re going to make me sound like an idiot.”

Jaemin laughs as Jeno glares at him, “I’m distracting?”

“Yes.” He says, on a breath, “And you keep trying to kiss me, Jaemin, what do you think?”

Another grin, “That you want to kiss me too?”

Jeno grumbles, “Not in front of everyone.”

“I’m sorry – I teased you too much today,” Jaemin laughs when Jeno sighs exasperatedly. “Okay, okay, I’ll tone it down, and I won’t try to kiss you in front of everyone.” Jaemin agrees amiably.

Jeno breathes, for his sanity, “Thank you.”

“But if I try to kiss you now, you’ll kiss me back?”

“Absolutely _not_.”

Jaemin does anyway, and Jeno kisses back, because by _god_ if kissing Na Jaemin wasn’t the only thing running through his mind the entire goddamn day.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos, comments appreciated ;;


	25. moving day - dotae - fluff

It’s difficult moving apartments – the packing and the unpacking, the cleaning out of drawers and closet space, the _Do I really have to keep my books under the bed?_ and _There’s not enough space for my things, Taeyong_. Even with the advantage of living only just two blocks away and having enough hands to help out with going back and forth, it’s tough moving apartments.

It’s even tougher when Taeyong’s college mate is moving _out_ of said apartment.

“He’s glaring at me,” Doyoung mumbles, over a box of unopened clothes. The boy, with a name Doyoung refuses to bother himself with, passes by, carrying a laundry hamper filled with junk. “He was seriously just glaring at me.”

“He was not,” Taeyong tuts, grabbing the box cutter off the dining table. He shoos Doyoung’s hands away, getting to work quickly. It’s already past noon, and the kids helping out (Taeyong’s cousin and his band of high school friends) are only on their third run, but the heat is tiring everyone out. “We discussed this months ago, and he was supposed to move out last week. Don’t mind him.”

“Last week?” Doyoung echoes. “Why’s he still here then?”

“I don’t know,” Taeyong sifts through the box, pushing it aside for them to bring it into the bedroom later. He reaches for another box, patting Doyoung on the shoulder to move it for him. Doyoung does, not without keeping his eyes on the seemingly fuming roommate, “Stop that, don’t engage.”

“I don’t know how you lived with him,” Doyoung muses, watching Taeyong unopen another box. They’re situated in the middle of the living room, _their_ living room, dealing with the boxes that are slowly diminishing. He presses his cheek to Taeyong’s shoulder, “I should’ve moved in with you sooner.”

“There was a contract, I told you that,” Taeyong says. “He had the room rented for the year.”

“I know, but it’s just weird,” Doyoung grumbles. The boy remerges with another hamper, filled with clothes now, rolling his eyes when he spots Doyoung clinging onto Taeyong’s arm, “Look, look, _look_! He just glared at me! Again!”

“I can’t look,” Taeyong tells him. “I’m busy helping my boyfriend move in to my apartment, because my boyfriend’s too busy staring at my roommate that’s moving out and he’s not doing _anything_.”

A lightbulb, “Maybe that’s it!”

“What is?” Taeyong sighs, shoulders slumping, giving up trying to get Doyoung to help, clearly. He leans against the unopened box, finally meeting Doyoung’s crazed eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Maybe he’s mad that he has to move out, because – ” Doyoung frowns, “He _likes_ you!”

Taeyong props his elbow against the box, cheek in his hand, “I’m beginning to reevaluate this whole moving in situation, maybe we should find you another place to stay for the time being.”

“No, seriously!” Doyoung plucks the box cutter out of Taeyong’s hands, leaving it on the coffee table beside them. “Why else would he still be here?”

“I don’t know – a multitude of reasons?” He lists, “Property prices? A busy schedule? His cat died and he was too upset to move?”

Doyoung wrinkles his nose, “He’s a _cat_ person? Ugh.”

“Doyoung, don’t – ”

“I’m just saying, okay, this is totally plausible and – ”

A pair of footsteps slap loudly into the apartment then, and before Doyoung can pretend to protest, Taeyong is getting to his knees and grabbing Doyoung by the face, kissing him soundly on the lips. He parts his lips on instinct, and Taeyong licks into his mouth, pushing his hips to Doyoung’s torso, coaxing Doyoung’s hands to land on him.

A door slams, pulling them apart.

“Well, that was – unnecessarily showy,” Doyoung says.

“As if you didn’t thoroughly enjoy that,” Taeyong looks over his shoulder, shrugging once. “Anyway, I don’t care if he likes me or not – I just care about getting you moved in, so can we please just focus on that instead?”

“You’ve lived with him for a year, Taeyong, how’d you miss that!”

Taeyong stares at him, “We’ve been dating for three years, Doyoung. I don’t notice anyone else.”

“Now you’re just lying.”

“I am _not_ – ”

The door opens, and Doyoung takes Taeyong this time, hands finding his way into Taeyong’s bubblegum pink hair, and tugging on it lightly. When the footsteps fade into nothing, Doyoung breaks the kiss, only to give Taeyong another, lips irresistible.

“‘Unnecessarily showy’,” Taeyong mocks. “ _Right_.”

Doyoung shrugs, “Just wanted to kiss you. Nothing more.”

“Who’s the liar now?” Taeyong reaches over with Doyoung to grab the box cutter. He kisses Doyoung chastely, “Get to work – it’s almost lunch and he’s promised to be out by then. I want to have Minhyung and the other kids out for lunch too, they’ve been working really hard.”

“Shouldn’t we have lunch with them?” Doyoung asks, pushing another box towards Taeyong.

Without looking up, “I was thinking we’d spend the time breaking our new bed in instead.”

Doyoung grins, “And how are we going to do that?”

“Don’t you worry – I’ll show you just how.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos, comments appreciated ;;


	26. wedding day - dojae - fluff

“Have you considered, maybe, I don’t know – not eating _all_ of the samples?”

Jaehyun freezes mid-bite, fork lifted mid-air, “Me?”

“Yes. You,” Doyoung says, with a sigh. He grabs a serviette off the holder, patting away the crumbs of triple chocolate on the corners of Jaehyun’s lips. “We still have the dishes to get to, you can’t fill yourself up on cake. And everything’s just going to taste overly sweet now.”

Jaehyun eats the piece on the fork anyway, “But this one is so good.”

“The chocolate?” Doyoung takes a bite for himself. “Will your mother appreciate us having this? I know she isn’t a fan of chocolate, is she? Maybe – we should get carrot cake instead, I know she likes carrot cake with cinnamon cream cheese frosting.”

“It’s our wedding cake,” Jaehyun forks another piece, bringing it to Doyoung’s lips. He takes it with minimal protest, “She can have boring carrot cake any other day.”

Doyoung rolls his eye, “You say it like you don’t like carrot cake too.”

“Well, I know _you_ don’t like it,” Jaehyun shrugs. “We’re not having something you don’t like as our wedding cake, Doyoung, it’s our wedding.”

“I know – ” He places the fork back on the platter, thanking the baker politely as she clears the other options away. Jaehyun grabs hold of the triple chocolate, “But it’s a _big_ day, Jae, it has to go well. What if she hates the cake? Or the dishes we pick? Every single dish?”

“It’s _going_ to go well,” Jaehyun eats yet another piece. He gives Doyoung a bite too, “Everything’s moving smoothly, the wedding planner’s doing a good job with the décor and the invites. Don’t worry about anything else, alright, just – think about what you want to have that night.”

Doyoung thinks on it, “I want alcohol. And a lot of it, an open bar – if you’re going to insist on your mother being there.”

Jaehyun isn’t any offended, knowing how hard his mother can be on Doyoung sometimes. Tough love, he tries to reason, but Doyoung isn’t any convinced, “She’s going to have to be there, babe – her only child is getting married to the love of his life, I think it warrants an invite?”

“You better hope she doesn’t strangle the love of your life to death,” Doyoung sniffs. “I’m sure she’ll find a reason to. Over cake choices and terrible chocolate profiteroles, I’m sure.”

“As much as you’re complaining,” Jaehyun laughs, leaving the plate back on the table. He takes Doyoung by the waist, smiling broadly, “Thank you for putting up with her. I know how much you stress over it, and you only do it because you love me, so – thank you.”

Doyoung caves, resting his hands on Jaehyun’s shoulders, “She _is_ your mother, I mean.”

“You say it like you don’t do it just because you love me.”

“I do it because I don’t want her busting an artery while I walk down the aisle in a white suit that’s two shades off to her liking,” Doyoung says dryly, recalling the day of suit fittings whereby Jaehyun’s mother had a proper mental breakdown over diamond white and ivory. “And yes, because I love you.”

“I love you too,” Jaehyun hums, kissing his husband-to-be sweetly.

“I don’t know how I’m going to survive it the moment we get a kid,” Doyoung grouses. “I mean, you know she’s going to insist that our child be some sort of – poster child for germs, or something. She’ll make them eat dirt to build their _immune system_ , or whatever rubbish she’s always on, I am not allowing that.”

“It’ll be different when we have a kid,” Jaehyun smiles, eyes twinkling at the mere idea of it. He’d always wanted children, and as much as Doyoung would like to spend the first few years of their marriage with just them two, that didn’t seem like it was going to happen. “She’ll be a nice grandma, I’m sure of it.”

“She’s going to raise them dirty.”

“She is _not_ ,” Jaehyun kisses Doyoung until the frown goes away. “I turned out pretty alright, didn’t I?”

He snorts, “Don’t even talk to me about the things you do in bed, Jung Jaehyun.”

“Hey – that is _different_!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos, comments appreciated ;; related to [this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225849/chapters/35350899)!


	27. a minute - dotae - slight angst/fluff

The last time Taeyong’s ever wanted to cry at dinner was when he was five.

It was Christmas, and he’d accidentally unplugged the tree lights while running about with his new set of Legos. The entire tree had fallen, creating the biggest mess the Lees had seen to date. It took the entire extended family and an hour to clean up broken glass ornaments, tufts of fir, and glitter across the carpeted floors; Taeyong was on the receiving end of a stern scolding, and with everyone watching, the waterworks followed soon after.

At this current point in time, Taeyong is not five, and it is not Christmas, but he does feel like crying.

“Eat.” A piece of grilled chicken is served to his empty plate, “Why aren’t you eating?”

He takes a deep breath, focused on picking up his fork and knife, “I – I’m eating.”

“No, you’re not,” Doyoung serves him a spoonful of vegetables. “Are you okay?”

“I’m – ”

“Kim Doyoung! Would you look at this picture, oh my _god_ , your hair!” A phone is thrust up to Doyoung’s nose, and Taeyong watches from his peripheral. It’s an unflattering picture of Doyoung, one Taeyong has never seen, and present day Doyoung is wrestling the pink phone out of the girl’s hand, snapping at her to _delete it, ugly_.

“Come _on_ ,” she beams, zooming in and holding the phone out of Doyoung’s reach. “This is a high school reunion, Kim, what did you think we were going to be doing here!”

“Reunion or not, delete that right _now_ ,” Doyoung leaps for the phone again, but she’s out of her seat in an instant, handing the phone to the rest of Doyoung’s old schoolmates. None of whom Taeyong’s ever met, none of whom have bothered to speak a word to him. “You ugly little – delete it!”

“Are you seriously calling me ugly!” She takes the phone from another girl’s hands, waving the phone tauntingly, “Look at yourself on here, Kim – I don’t even know how you managed to get Minjung to date you, y’know? The hottest girl in school with the ugly duck from Class 2A? It was a downright _miracle_.”

Taeyong knows about Minjung. Taeyong knows about all of Doyoung’s exes, the girls from high school and the guys from college. He’s never wanted to hear more than he needs to, and he certainly isn’t interested in knowing anything about them.

It’s not a nice feeling, sitting at a table with not a familiar face in sight, sitting at a table with a conversation so laden with inside jokes that he can barely keep up, sitting at a table and feeling so out of place, not knowing anything of Doyoung’s extravagant past – at least not to the extent that his high school friends do.

It’s not a nice feeling, hearing about how often Doyoung brought girls out to sweet cafés and the city’s best dating spots, or how he wrote them songs and serenaded them after school, or how he would get a slew of gifts shoved into his locker on his birthday and letters on Valentines’ Day – how he did all of those things that Taeyong never got the chance to see, the chance to be a part of –

It’s not a nice feeling, it’s _stupid_ – being jealous of the past.

“Excuse me – ” The chair scratches noisily in his haste to get to his feet, and Doyoung looks over his shoulder from where he’s still trying to beat the phone out of his classmate’s hands. “I have to – go to the bathroom.”

“ – you okay?” Doyoung releases his classmate in favor of turning to his boyfriend. “Hey, you – ”

“Yeah, fine.” Taeyong offers a fake smile that he knows Doyoung will see through.

“Taeyong, what – ”

The way to the bathroom is easy. Taeyong is out of the ballroom and into the empty hallway in seconds, and there’s a large sign directing him rightly, so he goes. His shoes clack noisily against the marble and his suit, specially bought and tailored for such an event, is tight against his chest. The door to the bathroom is in sight, but Taeyong finds himself being pulled into the baby’s changing room instead.

The door slides shut and is immediately locked, but Taeyong isn’t afraid.

“Hey,” Doyoung says, brows knitting together tightly. “What’s going on? Are you not feeling well?”

“I’m – fine.” When Doyoung reaches for him, Taeyong steps back, and away, the small of his back hitting against the cushioned baby changing table, “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Doyoung says, but stops advancing. Taeyong doesn’t dare look up, for what a stupid thing he’s getting so unreasonably upset over, “You’re not fine, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Just give me a minute,” Taeyong hisses, turning to face the wallpaper spotted with animated safari animals. “Give me a minute.”

“Okay.” Doyoung moves to lean against the changing table too, but he stays an arm’s length away.

Taeyong tries his best not to cry, because he’s not five anymore and this isn’t something to cry over. It’s not that he’s any suspicious over Doyoung’s love for him, because they’ve been together four years now and he knows that what they have is real – it’s important. What they have is more than just silly dinner conversations and jokes Taeyong can’t get, it’s more than just feeling left out and wanting to leave, it’s more than just the jealousy burning over the fact that he knows less of the old Doyoung and only of the new.

Four years of high school Doyoung with a bad haircut is nothing compared to the four years they’ve had together.

“Kiss me,” he tells Doyoung, swallowing thickly.

Doyoung blinks, “What?”

Taeyong reaches for Doyoung’s lapel, tugging his boyfriend close, “ _Kiss_ me, please.”

Maybe it’s the way he’d asked, or the tremble in his voice, but Doyoung wastes no time in pulling Taeyong into his arms, and kissing him languidly on the lips. He takes Taeyong by the waist and splays his fingertips on the underside of Taeyong’s jaw, lips moving against Taeyong’s smoothly. Taeyong rests his hands on Doyoung’s chest, hands curled into loose fists as he tiptoes further into the kiss, asking for more.

Doyoung kisses him proper then, silently asking for permission that Taeyong so willing gives. He licks into Taeyong’s mouth hotly, holding onto him so tightly as if he were afraid Taeyong might slip through his fingers. Taeyong moans, loud and unabashed, kissing back however he can with Doyoung working him so well, pushing him to the limit. He feels Doyoung press hard against his thigh, taking as much as he wants to give.

A string of saliva is between them when they pull apart, but Doyoung laps it up with a sweet kiss.

“I love you,” he says, short of breath and smiling so gently that it makes Taeyong’s heart get up and run laps. Doyoung is staring so intently that it’s obvious that he _knows_ what’s on Taeyong’s mind, “I love you.”

Taeyong nods, a little dazed, “I love you too.”

“I’ll kiss you again, if you want me to,” Doyoung offers, already leaning close.

Taeyong tilts away, “I don’t think I can make it through the rest of dinner if you kiss me like that again.”

“I’ll wait for when we go home then,” Doyoung tucks a tuft of hair behind Taeyong’s ear, hand lingering to caress the highs of his cheek. “And you can tell me what this was all about, and I’ll tell you that you were wrong. I’ll tell you that you had nothing to worry about, whatever you’re worrying about, because this is _high school_ – nothing mentioned here matters anymore.”

Taeyong tries not to sound too weak when he says, “Okay.”

“Then – I’ll kiss you, and I’ll tell you that I love you, and that I’ll love you forever, because I do, and I will, okay?”

Again, “Okay.”

Taeyong can handle three hours of a bad dinner for a lifetime together with Doyoung.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to the land of rubbish, my dear readers ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;


	28. the bed - dotae - fluff

In retrospect, it wasn’t worth it.

It wasn’t worth arguing with Taeyong over it in the middle of IKEA, it wasn’t worth spending hours fixing it up all on his own, and it really obviously wasn’t worth the entire week of body aches. As much as Doyoung would still like to _think_ that a sofa bed was a good idea for their new apartment, it wasn’t worth it.

And despite knowing that, he readies himself for another terrible night on it. On a mattress so thin and lumpy that the springs jab him in the back, on throw pillows that Doyoung’s sure are the cause of his bad dreams, and under a blanket that does nothing to protect him from the cold winter nights.

Often times, like right now, Doyoung hates how much pride he has in him. How he’s too full of it to admit that it was wrong to get a sofa bed instead of a regular couch, because Taeyong was right – they’re never going to use it anyway. There’s a spare room perfect enough to house a visiting friend, and it wasn’t like either of their parents have any intentions of staying in anything less than a four-star hotel.

During these times, Doyoung hates how much pride Taeyong has too. It’s been a _week_ since their argument over the sofa bed, which means it’s been a whole seven days of sleeping apart, seven whole days of cold war, and seven whole days with an invisible wall between them. No talking, no looking, no _touching_.

Taeyong has taken the liberty to ignore any of Doyoung’s efforts to maintain any sort of conversation, and it’s just – really tiring, with how much energy that’s going into ignoring one other in the early mornings and through the late nights. Going through the weekends without being at each other’s sides, waking up without Taeyong drooling all over his pillow, going to bed without Taeyong clinging onto him like a personal heater.

It’s sometime after four in the morning that Doyoung realizes he’s had enough.

Ego aside, Doyoung stumbles out of the sofa bed, biting down on the nagging voice in his head to, _Get back into your dumb bed_.

The door to their bedroom isn’t fully closed, and Doyoung convinces himself that it’s Taeyong’s own way of inviting him back into their comfortable, their very, _very_ , comfortable queen-sized bed. He doesn’t bother shutting the door, moving very stealthily in the dark, towards the bed and his sleeping boyfriend.

When he gets close enough, Doyoung makes out that his side of the bed (the left, because Taeyong likes to sleep on his right side, and he also likes to smush his face into Doyoung’s chest) is empty. The comforter is wrapped tightly around Taeyong, and, from what Doyoung can see, his pillow is crushed in Taeyong’s wiry arms, hands tight over the corners. His nose is buried deep into the down pillow, and his lips are parted, a line of drool on his chin.

The sight sends a rush of blood to his fingers and toes.

“Baby,” Doyoung whispers, climbing into bed, one knee sinking down the plush mattress. “Taeyong?”

Taeyong barely rouses, but his grip on the pillow does tighten, shrinking further into himself. Doyoung tries to pull the pillow free, intending on replacing it with himself, but sleep addled Taeyong is relentless, hugging the pillow tight.

“Taeyong,” Doyoung stifles a laugh, watching his boyfriend hook a leg over the pillow, trying to keep it entirely pressed against himself. “Taeyong, let go – ”

“No, stop – ” Taeyong grumbles hoarsely, yanking harder. His eyes are still screwed shut. He rubs his cheek against the pillow, and Doyoung’s nose twitches unappreciatively when the line of Taeyong’s drool is transferred over to it. “Stop, wait – ”

Doyoung sighs, giving the pillow another hard tug, “Taeyong, can you – ”

“Stop, please – ” Taeyong’s brows furrow, fighting Doyoung for the pillow. And in a breath, he begs, “Don’t go, please – ”

Doyoung stares down at his boyfriend, clutching onto the pillow for dear life. He’s frowning, even in the depths of his slumber, and it’s only then that Doyoung belatedly realizes that Taeyong is having a nightmare of sorts.

Worried, Doyoung tries again, pulling on the pillow with a little more strength.

“Don’t – ” Taeyong burrows his face into the edge of the pillow, voice muffled when he says, “ _Doyoung_ – don’t – don’t go, just – _please_.”

Agitation washes over and Doyoung tears the pillow out of Taeyong’s grasp, throwing it over the bed. He fills the spot quickly, sliding into Taeyong’s freed up arms. Doyoung’s arms are around Taeyong in the next moment, stopping him mid-yelp as he jerks awake abruptly. Instantaneously, his hands are digging into Doyoung’s sleep shirt, easily replacing the pillow cover.

“W – wh – ” Taeyong blinks rapidly, waking with every second that passes. “I thought – ”

“You were having a bad dream,” Doyoung tells him, relaxing into Taeyong’s pillow. He kisses Taeyong over his hair, “I’m right here.”

Taeyong seems to get it then, ducking his head in embarrassment, “Was I – did you hear me?”

“Yeah,” Doyoung angles Taeyong to have them fit, shoulder to hips. He’s missed this. “I came in here, and I tried to take the pillow from you, but you were – ” He kisses Taeyong in place of continuing.

“Oh.” Taeyong breathes against Doyoung’s collar, inhaling deeply. He stiffens after a moment, “Did you – want to bring your pillow with you back outside?”

“No.” He feels Taeyong exhale at that, “I missed you. I miss you.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Taeyong fidgets, “I missed you too.”

“I’m sorry,” Doyoung kisses Taeyong on the cheek, reveling the way Taeyong’s eyes slide shut, “This was a dumb argument, and I took it too far – trying to prove that we’d use the sofa bed. I’m sorry.”

Taeyong nestles further into Doyoung, “Okay. I’m sorry too.”

“Okay.” Doyoung goes on, “We can start looking for a proper couch tomorrow.”

“We can talk about it tomorrow, but I don’t care.” Taeyong sighs, “You can have your stupid sofa bed, just – don’t sleep on it anymore. Just – sleep here. Stay.”

Doyoung nods, hair ruffling against Taeyong’s pillow, “I’m right here.”

“Good,” Taeyong huffs, slowly drifting off again. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The first night in seven whole days that Doyoung’s slept so good, with Taeyong in his arms.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments, kudos appreciated ;;


	29. a toothbrush - johnil - fluff

It’s a Monday night when Youngho finds one of Taeil’s boxers in his laundry. Immediately, he knows it’s Taeil’s because, one, it’s too small to be Youngho’s, the boy has tiny hips. Two, it has dinosaur prints over them, courtesy of Taeil’s love for the animal, and three, he’s taken these off of Taeil too many times to count now. He doesn’t think much of it, folding it up neatly and placing it next to his own in his chest of drawers.

It’s a Tuesday morning when Youngho finds that the dishes in the sink are gone. As in, the dirty dishes from Monday night’s dinner. Pots and pans and dirty utensils that Youngho’d freely grabbed off the drying rack from where Taeil’d last left them. They’re all washed and dried and properly stacked in their respective positions in the cupboards. He doesn’t think much of it, grabbing a mug and pouring himself some coffee to start the day.

It’s a Wednesday afternoon when Youngho returns home for a quick lunch, and he finds Taeil already there, prattling around in his tight boxer briefs and a very thin shirt, white and very easily classified as translucent.

“You’re here,” Youngho says, not very articulate. Taeil’s shirt is _see_ through. As in, Youngho can see through it. Through the shirt. The definition of see through, as in _through_ it. See through.

“I have another lecture in an hour,” Taeil shrugs, sauntering across the living area, a knowing smile on his face. His hips, his tiny hips, dear _god_ , sway with every step, and Youngho finds that it’s incredibly hard to breathe. “Thought I’d drop by, since your place is much closer to the university than mine is.”

Youngho drops his satchel to the ground, “Did you know I would be home?”

“I hoped you would be.”

Youngho takes him in the kitchen, and they make a mess on the dining table that later Youngho would have to sanitize.

It’s a Thursday evening when Youngho has Taeil between his legs, back to Youngho’s chest. They’re watching an old movie off Netflix, and Taeil is more focused on cuddling himself against Youngho than the movie itself. He fidgets, curling up against Youngho and holding onto one of Youngho’s arms like a body pillow.

“Want to stay the night?” Youngho asks, despite already knowing the answer. He pauses the movie, “You have an early morning tomorrow, and it’s late.”

Taeil sighs, getting ready to disentangle himself from Youngho, “No, it’s okay – I can go home.”

“Stay,” Youngho insists, tilting Taeil back to try and kiss him into caving in. “Stay the night.”

Taeil kisses him back, but he says, “It’s okay. I’ve stayed since Monday, I can go home.”

Reluctantly, Youngho lets him leave.

It’s a Friday morning when Youngho wakes to an empty bed. He refuses to open his eyes, knowing that he won’t wake to the sight of Taeil clinging onto him. His boyfriend has early lectures to teach on Friday mornings, which means Taeil’s more inclined to not staying over. Youngho thinks he hates Friday mornings the most out of the entire week. He gets ready for work in a sour mood, and he leaves the apartment in a sour mood, childishly upset that he hadn’t gotten to kiss Taeil that morning.

A lightbulb lights.

It’s Friday evening at dinner that Youngho has a revelation.

“Move in with me,” he tells Taeil, over ordered-in dinner and two mugs of red wine. He digs through his wallet for the key he’d gone to duplicate today, “This isn’t a spare key. This is your key. If you’d like – to move in with me.”

Taeil stares at him like he’s crazy, a forkful of spaghetti hover over his lips.

“I mean – ” Youngho stutters, arms knocking into the coffee table. “Then you wouldn’t have to go home. You could live here with me, and – and we could wake up together every morning, and go to bed together too. And we could eat together, and I could get you your own toothbrush, and I could clear out my closet for you and – you won’t have to go back home whenever it got too late?”

With adrenaline going through his veins, he continues, “And this place is closer to the university too – and maybe in a – in a few years, we could get our _own_ place.”

“We could live – ” Youngho takes a deep breath, “Together?”

Taeil lowers the fork slowly, searching Youngho’s eyes, “You’re asking me to move in with you?”

“Yes,” Youngho says, breathlessly. Confidently.

Taeil leaves the plate of carbonara on the table, “Are you – sure? You want me here? With you?”

“Yes,” Youngho reaffirms. “I love you, Taeil. I – hate being apart from you.”

“I love you too.” Taeil’s expression sheds its hesitance, and in its place, is excitement, a smile, soft and dimpled. “I love you.”

“Then move in with me,” Youngho says. He looks away for a fraction of a second to pick the key up, intending to hand it to Taeil, but he’s tackled to the ground even before he can reach for it. Taeil is straddling him then, pushing Youngho to the ground and kissing him soundly. Youngho ditches the key to hold onto Taeil instead, holding him close, “Move in with me, Moon Taeil?”

“Yeah,” Taeil nods, bringing their lips together. “I’ll move in with you, of course – I’ll move in with you. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And Youngho laughs, eager for more days and mornings and nights and evenings with Taeil that’s promised to come. For more quick lunches and dinosaur printed boxer briefs, for more breakfasts and dinners and even the see through shirts.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments, kudos appreciated ;;;;


	30. sunday morning/the bed - noren - fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mentions of church ;;

All Jeno needs – is a little quiet sometimes. He needs it so that he can hear himself think about what he has to do the next week, needs it so that he can let his guards down for just a minute, needs it so that he can focus on his heart beating, a steady rhythm that serves as a reminder that everything will be alright.

Not that Jeno has a particularly rough time juggling school and work; he runs on the same schedule as Minhyung, which is convenient, because Minhyung has always paced well. They work at the same coffee place, attend classes in the same building (Sports and Exercise Science), and more often than not, Minhyung is over at their dorm anyway, taking up half of Donghyuck’s single bed.

Which simply means that all Jeno has to do, is go with the flow.

He likes going with the flow. He likes not having to think about what he has to do, not needing to make any decisions, not being in-charge of anything important that could possibly affect the people around him. Jeno is easy-going, and he likes it that way.

Renjun, on the other hand, likes to make decisions.

He likes to know what’s for dinner, he likes to make changes to dinner if he doesn’t like what’s for dinner, and he has no problems going ahead and making his _own_ dinner if it’s not to his liking. Renjun makes decisions all day in the art studio; red or blue, pinewood or rosewood, and sorting through thousands of textiles that would best befit his current project.

But he likes the quiet too. They especially like the quiet together, and they like it on Sunday mornings.

It’s like clockwork – they wake to the sound of Donghyuck dragging Minhyung out of bed for Sunday service, nagging at his boyfriend to bring a scarf or wear two pairs of socks because the temperatures are dropping. It used to be the other way around, Minhyung waking Donghyuck for Sunday morning services, but it seems to be something they do together now, which is great, really.

Jeno just wishes they would be a little _quieter_.

He wakes first, like he always does, hearing Donghyuck clamber around the kitchen for a quick glass of water, and Renjun wakes second, when Minhyung routinely bumps into their door while trying to shove a sock on.

Though, Renjun shows no signs of being awake, sans tugging the comforter up and over his ears.

“Morning,” Jeno says, when they hear the front door shut.

Renjun grumbles in response, ditching his hold on their blanket to inch closer to Jeno, burying himself into Jeno’s chest instead. Jeno reciprocates easily, sliding into a position comfortable enough for them to last the next half hour or so, lying in each other’s arms, waiting for time to pass.

It’s hard to get time like this, not with Jeno’s late nights and Renjun’s early mornings. The weekdays are hectic for either of them, resulting in not many nights worth of cuddling. Saturdays have everyone over for dinner and game night, which means even _less_ time to just stay in bed together.

All they have are Sunday mornings, actually.

So, they stay like that, like they always do, appreciating the quiet.

Jeno tries not to shift too much, because Renjun’s bed, despite being heaps better than Jeno’s, is thin and squeaks too loudly for nine in the morning.

“I promised Hyuck we would double date lunch,” Renjun mumbles sleepily. He yawns into Jeno’s sleep shirt, “Then I have to drop by that art supply store.”

“Okay,” Jeno sighs, cradling Renjun’s head and giving his crown a kiss. He lets go when Renjun complains of suffocation, “Where are we going?”

“‘Dunno,” Renjun flattens his cheek against Jeno’s collarbone. “But I told Jaemin he could bring that new guy he’s dating, if he wanted to.”

Jeno hums, “That boy from his dance class?”

“Think so? I don’t know,” he sighs. “Jaemin is an enigma.”

“He’s also your best friend,” Jeno shrugs. “Maybe you should talk to him about it. You and I both know how it’s been affecting him, living with couples… Maybe he’s feeling a little lonely.”

Renjun snorts, throwing a leg over Jeno’s hips and pulling them closer together, “You’re speaking as if we’re an old married couple… living with our old married friends and doing old married people things.”

“What, like having lunch?” Jeno winces when Renjun bites on a patch of exposed skin, shaking his head when Renjun runs his tongue over the indents like a kitten offering an apology. “I’ll have you know I’d make a great husband.”

“It’s too early in the morning to hear you speak rubbish.” Renjun deadpans when Jeno makes an indignant noise, “We’re nineteen, Jeno.”

“Loads of people get married at nineteen.”

“Sure,” Renjun fidgets, sighing comfortably when he has one of Jeno’s arms under the crook of his neck and the other over his waist, “But I’m not going to be one of them.”

Jeno pinches him lightly on the waist, “Are you saying that you’ll say _no_ if I asked you to marry me?”

“Yes,” Renjun kisses Jeno shortly on the neck, hands trailing upwards to rest on Jeno’s chest. “Ask me again in five years.”

“What if I can’t wait five years?” Jeno counters, threatening to pin Renjun down, hovering over him. The ring looped through Renjun’s necklace glints, and the one on Jeno’s ring finger winks up at them both. “What will you do then?”

“Keep telling you to ask me in five years.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’d beat you with a stick.”

“Huang Renjun – ”

“You’d wait for me,” Renjun says simply. “Because you love me.”

Jeno’s teasing falters then, and his questioning gaze softens into a smile, “You’re right. I do love you.”

“I love you too,” Renjun says, kissing Jeno chastely. “I want – you.” A tint of rose colors his cheeks, and Jeno grins, “Forever. So – ask me again in five years, and I’ll say yes.”

Jeno nods, his heart bursting at the seams at the thought of it. Staying in bed on Sunday mornings are enough to have his heartrate fired through the roof, he doesn’t know if he can take it, actually living with Renjun just them two, getting married, having a _future_ together.

“But for now,” Renjun says, pushing Jeno back onto the bed. “We can lie here together, until we have to go for lunch.” He props his chin against Jeno’s sternum, reaching up to prod Jeno’s lower lip with his thumb, “Sound good?”

“That sounds _really_ good.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;;;;; i don't know ;;;; 
> 
> related to [rbahc](https://archiveofourown.org/series/956448)!


	31. canon au - dotae - fluff

Taeyong slams his laptop shut, insides boiling.

He knows better than to snoop online, better than to read hundreds of articles that in actuality mean nothing, better than to waste his time on gossip sites that do nothing but fuel a monster deep inside him. They’re a vortex of sites that drag him in, leading him from one page to another, a never-ending black hole of links that Taeyong’s too immature to ignore.

Frankly, Taeyong’s used to seeing his own name by now. He’s used to articles pinpointing his every frown or yawn, a slip of the tongue or maybe a teasing lilt gone a little too overboard. However, not all of them are _bad_ per se; there’s still a slew of beautiful pictures and videos of him floating abouts the interwebs, and Taeyong is immensely grateful to even have eyes on him.

He is, however, not yet used to seeing articles of Doyoung everywhere.

As much as he loves his boyfriend, it would do Taeyong’s heart good not to be seeing so much of him in the comforts of his own room, playing with his heartstrings like they’re jump rope. He’s genuinely, sincerely, excited that Doyoung’s been getting a lot more attention lately (for his singing, his dancing, his smiling, his _breathing –_ ), because this is attention Doyoung should’ve been getting from the start anyway, really.

But Taeyong would give up many things to not have to see articles plastered about which girl colleague they have fit Doyoung best.

Which type of girl Doyoung would like to marry in the future, how to win Doyoung’s attention (and heart) at a concert, who has the _right_ to Doyoung’s heart. Polls about who else within their colleague group (because they’re not allowed to be called _friends_ ) would look the sweetest with Doyoung, who could take care of him best, which of them would have the cutest _babies_.

It makes him mad, for one. At himself, mostly.

Taeyong is not at all happy with the way his mind is screaming _mine, mine, mine!_ whenever an article of Doyoung pops up, unable to control his possessiveness and uncontrollable need to proclaim it to the entire world. He’s not happy with how he wants to kiss Doyoung at all times of the day, or be kissed by Doyoung, whatever, not caring at all who’s to see. He’s not happy with how irresistibly _good_ Doyoung looks all the damn time that it’s actually starting to get really embarrassing how much he loves that idiot of a rabbit.

Disgruntled at his own stupidity, he flips the light off and stumbles across the room for his bed. Blindly, he reaches for the ladder to his and Youngho’s double decker bed. Moving on muscle memory, he climbs up the rungs, diving into his mattress with a groan.

He gets comfortable, kicking at his plushies until they’re at the foot of his bed, sighing at the ceiling.

Youngho is currently out at the gym with Yuta, despite it being near three in the morning, and, while he was thankful for the silence at first, the room’s a little too quiet for his liking. Especially with all these thoughts flying around his head, Taeyong could use a little distracting right about now.

On cue, the door to his room clicks open, and Taeyong bothers not to ask who it is, heart already hammering against his ribs, _let me out! Let me out!_

A whisper in the dark, “Hi.”

Speak of the devil – a really cute one at that – Doyoung peers over the side of Taeyong’s bed, probably stepping on the edge of Youngho’s to have his arms hooked over the metal railings.

Taeyong doesn’t move an inch, “Hello.”

“Have space for one more tonight?”

 _Always_ , “I guess.”

Doyoung ducks away then, head disappearing into the darkness as he pads over to the ladder to join Taeyong in bed. Taeyong shifts closer to the wall, watching with shallow breaths when Doyoung looms over him, nearly bumping his head against the ceiling. He makes enough space for Doyoung to lie on his back, broad shoulders and all that, but Doyoung doesn’t, choosing instead to lie on his side, smiling down at him.

“Would’ve been here sooner,” Doyoung says, quiet in the night. “But I had vocal classes until late.”

“It’s okay,” Taeyong whispers. _Screw being angry_ , and his hands find their way to Doyoung’s torso, scooting himself closer until there’s barely enough space for the summer’s air between them. He would be daft not to take advantage of the fact that Doyoung, living, _breathing_ , Kim Doyoung, is right now beside him.

Doyoung hugs him back, warm and soft and _good_.

They lie like that for a long while, until Taeyong is positive Doyoung’s fallen asleep, hand gone still in Taeyong’s hair where he’d been mindlessly playing with the strands of freshly dyed brown.

Then, “Is everything okay?”

Taeyong buries his nose into Doyoung’s chest, “What?”

“You’re – quiet,” Doyoung hums, hand moving away from Taeyong’s hair to trail down his back. And up his shirt, just over the small of his back. Taeyong squirms, “I thought you’d be all excited to tell me about that new choreography you made – Jaehyun told me about it over class.”

“It was nothing,” Taeyong shakes his head, focused instead on inhaling as much of Doyoung he physically can. How is it possibly for someone to smell this good at three in the morning, Taeyong will never know. “Just some freestyle.”

Doyoung hums, unconvinced, but he doesn’t push it. He sighs to himself, tired from a long day, they always have long days, shifting to make himself more comfortable against Taeyong’s pillow.

It’s another long moment before Taeyong is fidgeting again, “Hey.”

Doyoung breathes, “Hmm?”

“Tell me you love me.”

The hand on Taeyong’s back freezes, and Doyoung pulls away from their cocoon to blink at Taeyong, moonlight shining in his eyes, “What?”

Taeyong wiggles until he’s inches above Doyoung on the pillow, releasing Doyoung’s shirt to press the tips of his fingers onto the side of Doyoung’s neck. Quietly, he says again, “You love me, right?”

“Yeah.” The answer is quick, and Doyoung’s brows remained furrowed, starting to grow alert at Taeyong’s odd enough request, “Yeah, I love you – I love you.”

“Okay,” Taeyong sighs. He dips down to kiss Doyoung lightly, something he’s wanted to do the entire day now. When he settles back against the pillow, a laughter bubbles up his throat at Doyoung’s confusion, “What?”

“I should be asking you that,” Doyoung returns. “What’s going on?”

Taeyong bites on his lip, thinking of an answer. He isn’t about to name names he’s seen online, rumors and fabricated pictures that now plague his memory, not with Doyoung right here in his arms, looking at him with such a shade of concern that he’s got Taeyong convinced that he’s the only one that matters in the world.

 “Nothing,” Taeyong kisses Doyoung again, smiling when Doyoung moves to hover over him, getting on his elbows. They kiss, like they always do, lips plush and cushiony, and Taeyong feels his worries ebb away with Doyoung’s weight against him, like an anchor to reality.

“You’ll tell me?” Doyoung asks, mouthing against the underside of Taeyong’s jaw. “If it’s something important, you’ll tell me? Because – ” he breathes hotly, Taeyong squirms again, shivers racing through his limbs, “even if it’s not important, you can tell me.”

Taeyong sinks his fingers into Doyoung’s hair, “It’s nothing, I promise.”

“Okay,” Doyoung glances at him for good measure. “You’re sure?”

He nods affirmatively, “I’m sure.”

Doyoung grins, “Then tell me you love me back.” Taeyong scoffs, unappreciative of the teasing, but Doyoung holds onto him, collapsing from where he’d been holding himself up, having their chests together, “I want to hear it from you too.”

Taeyong kisses the top of Doyoung’s head, sniffing at his hair, again befuddled at why Doyoung smells so intoxicatingly good. He latches onto him like a koala, arms over Doyoung’s shoulders, legs over Doyoung’s hips, nuzzling his nose into Doyoung’s hair.

“You’re just smelling me,” Doyoung deadpans, muffled under Taeyong’s embrace. “Tell me you love me too.”

“I love you.”

Doyoung relaxes in his arms, “I love you too.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's pheromones that makes your partner smell good, if anyone was wondering ;;;;


	32. tuesday afternoon - markhyuck - fluff

“How long has he been standing here for?”

Jeno looks at his wristwatch, “About fifteen minutes.”

“And you’ve been standing here with him?” Renjun glances at the menu board hanging over the cashier, then at Jeno, a little impressed. “Don’t you have better things to do on a Tuesday afternoon? Like, I don’t know, attend classes?”

“Best friend duties,” Jeno sighs. To Minhyung, he says, “But I can only stand here for that much longer, I mean – I’ve already finished _my_ drink. I’m sure he’ll like any one you pick, so just pick one and we can get going before the sun literally sets.”

“Caramel?” Minhyung mumbles, rereading the menu for the hundredth time that hour. “Does he like caramel? Or would he like green tea?”

“Get the original, he likes the original,” Renjun says, plucking Minhyung’s wallet of his hands. Jeno pushes Minhyung forward, and with more effort and manpower than necessary, they manage to buy a large cup of boba tea on Minhyung’s behalf.

“But what if he doesn’t like it?” Minhyung asks, long after they’ve collected the drink. It’s a short walk from the boba tea place to the small accessory shop Donghyuck temps at, but it feels like a journey through the mountains in Minhyung’s eyes. “Or maybe it’s too much milk – I should get another without dairy if he – ”

“You’re going to scare him off if you keep being like this,” Renjun interjects, sipping on his own drink. He lets Jeno have some, despite the boy already finishing his own while waiting on Minhyung.

Minhyung’s brow wrinkles, “Like what?”

“I don’t know,” Renjun says. “It’s just – a lot.”

“Yeah, well – I _like_ him a lot.”

Jeno steps between them, “Just don’t overthink it… This is our best friend we’re talking about. We know him, you know him.”

“Yes, but he’s also my new _boyfriend_.” Minhyung avoids a crack on the pavement, mind whirling. _Is it too much?_ “I – I – he’s – I don’t want to do anything wrong.”

“You’re bound to do _something_ wrong at some point.” Jeno says, handing Renjun’s drink back to him and adding, “Was I this crazy when we first got together?”

“I don’t think so.” Renjun ignores the pitiful look Minhyung sends his way, “But I like the regular boba milk tea, for future references.”

“Noted.” Jeno kisses him on the cheek, and Minhyung groans at their obvious display of affection (or his stomach’s just jumping too much at the thought of seeing Donghyuck, even though they’d only just had dinner and a movie together just the night before).

“You’re here!”

Donghyuck slides out and from behind the counter the moment Minhyung steps into the minimalistic accessory boutique, Jeno and Renjun trailing behind him. They exchange _hello_ s before Donghyuck pulls Minhyung away, leaving the others to admire a display of sterling silver earrings (that’s very much to Renjun’s taste).

“Thanks for this,” Donghyuck says sincerely, poking through the top with a straw. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and I only end work at six today because Jaemin’s down with a flu.”

“Oh.” Minhyung tries not to stare too hard at the cutest moles Donghyuck has on his cheeks and near his lips.

“Want to have dinner with me after?” Donghyuck asks, swiping his hair out of his eyes. His fingers are decorated with the store’s accessories, rings with interlinking chains draped across them, and Minhyung’s eyes follow like a puppy being teased with a bone. “If you aren’t hanging out with the others?”

Minhyung shifts his weight from one foot to the other, “We had dinner together last night.”

Donghyuck pauses mid-sip, blinking twice, “And?”

Minhyung feels his heart in his throat and he curses the heavens for making him so easily susceptible to the things he’s told, “It’s not – too much? Hanging out with me again?”

The look Donghyuck gives him nearly sends Minhyung flying out the door, “What are you talking about, Min?”

“I – I, uh – ” He takes a deep breath, and Donghyuck takes his hand, lacing their fingers together, “I was just – maybe, worried that you might – maybe I’m being, I don’t know – too much.”

“Too much of what?” Donghyuck asks, eyes flitting towards the door periodically for any customers.

“I don’t know – ” Minhyung desperately tries not to sound like an idiot, because he knows how much Donghyuck hates blabbering idiots and he’s mentioned many times that Minhyung’s the only exception. “Too much of me, I guess.”

Donghyuck laughs, _laughs_ , “If you haven’t noticed, Min, I _like_ you. I don’t think having dinner together all week would be too much at all either, okay?” He reaches to tuck Minhyung’s hair behind his ear, hands cold from the drink, “Do _you_ think it’s too much?”

“No, no – ” Minhyung lowers his voice, “It’s just that… Renjun said – ”

“Then have dinner with me tonight,” Donghyuck cuts him off, smiling gently. “I don’t care what other people think, especially not those two dummies who can’t spend a day without seeing one another.” He sets the boba tea on the counter, moving to twine his arms around Minhyung’s neck. At this point, Minhyung’s just really trying to not pass out from how close they’re standing together,

“I like it when you come and find me when I’m at work, I like it when you bring me food, and I especially like being around you, so – no, it’s not too much, being with you. Okay?”

“Okay,” Minhyung says, cheeks flushing when he hears how weak he sounds. “Okay.”

“You care about me,” Donghyuck grins, playing with the short hairs on the back of Minhyung’s neck. “That’s cute – you’re cute.”

“I like you,” Minhyung blurts out, heat spreading to his ears.

Donghyuck laughs, shaking against Minhyung’s torso, “I like you too.”

“Like – a _lot_.”

“Kiss me then,” Donghyuck hums, already moving in to line their lips together. “And I’ll tell you just how much I like you too.”

Minhyung kisses Donghyuck then, and he smiles at just how much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;


	33. a minute - johnil - fluff

Taeil wakes up a minute too late.

That is, in fact, unbelievably false. He wakes up a half hour too late, which means he’s going to have to run to the station and most probably end up teaching a room full of undergraduate students while sweating buckets.

“Why didn’t you wake me!” is what he’s yelling, running across the hallway in just a white button up shirt and boxer briefs, trying to put together his briefcase. He hadn’t gotten the chance to the night before, considering how Youngho had tackled him to bed the moment he’d stepped through the threshold. “You know I have classes on Fridays!”

Youngho, an early riser, damn him, watches from the kitchen counter with an amused smile on his lips and a cup of orange juice in his hands, “I didn’t think you had to go in today since it’s the last week of school. They usually cancel lectures, don’t they?”

Taeil hobbles from the bathroom to their shared office, one sock on, “I promised a few students I’d drop in for some last-minute consulta – ” a loud thump echoes through their apartment when he bumps his head against the bookcase, “ _– ow,_ last-minute consultations.”

“Are you okay?” Youngho calls from his comfortable spot by the kitchen.

“Fine,” Taeil throws back agitatedly. If it weren’t for Youngho and his insatiable libido, Taeil wouldn’t be running around with one side of his pants on and a throbbing lower back, fishing through his mess of a table for his flash drive. “ _Fine_.”

“Need any help?”

“ _No_ , I’m – ” Taeil groans, shoving a handful of papers into his satchel, just to look prepared, maybe. “You can help the next time by waking me up.”

“But I wanted to let you sleep a little more,” Youngho says, pout evident even in his voice. He appears by the door to their office, leaning against door frame with two mugs in his hands, “You were really tired.”

Taeil’s head snaps up to glare at Youngho from where he’s fixing his slacks, “And I wonder whose fault that is entirely.”

Youngho’s brow jumps, “You weren’t complaining at all last night.”

“You seduced me!” Taeil accuses, yanking his bag over his shoulder and stomping towards the door. Youngho holds the juice out like a peace offering, and Taeil takes it in favor of his stomach rumbling midway through a talk on the current state of the psychological research in the field of music and emotion. “It was good, _yes_ , but oh my _god_.”

“We’re newlyweds, babe,” Youngho says, following Taeil out into the living area. “Could you blame me?”

“Yes, Youngho, I could,” Taeil gulps down the juice, thunking the mug against the counter. “I have to go, I’ll see you for dinner – ”

“Wait – ” He’s pulled back into Youngho’s embrace easily, having not really put up much of an actual fight. Taeil melts in Youngho’s arms, holding back a shiver when he feels Youngho kiss his neck, breathing deeply, “Did it really hurt? Last night?”

Taeil sighs, tilting away to award Youngho more to work with, “No, it was good – it’s always good.”

Youngho laughs lowly, pressing against Taeil’s back in a way that makes Taeil want to take his shirt off and do last night all over again, “Okay. Because I _can_ take it down a notch, y’know, if you’re tired.”

“I’m not tired,” Taeil mumbles, ignoring the rational part of his brain screaming at him that there are about a hundred students waiting for him at the university. “I just – have class today.”

“Huh,” Youngho says, moving to kiss against the shell of Taeil’s ear, “So you were just putting up a front then? Being all cute and angry?”

Taeil snaps out of it, twisting in Youngho’s arms, “I was _not_ being cute, I was just – ”

“You are,” Youngho grins, so deviously that something drops straight through Taeil’s gut and to his loins. He tilts Taeil gently against the counter, holding his new husband caged like a prey in the woods, keeping Taeil between his legs. Taeil swallows the gasp the rises when Youngho stares down at him, already feelings his legs shake at the sheer intensity of Youngho’s stare,

“Are you sure you have to go in today? Because we could just stay home and I could just _fu_ – ”

“ _Okay_! Okay, okay, _no_ – ” Taeil jabs a finger into Youngho’s shoulder, but he’s not sure if he’s telling Youngho or the voice in his mind that wants him to stay home too. He slips from under Youngho’s arms, knees knocking clumsily against the wall, feeling a lot like jelly, “Do _not_ tempt me, I will not – this is – I am – ”

“Go, go,” Youngho says, slouching against the kitchen counter with a soft smile. He returns to being his goofy self, and not the one that has Taeil’s skin on fire at every _glance_ , “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Okay,” Taeil says (to himself). “Bye.”

Before he can leave though, Youngho’s speaking again, “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Taeil rolls his eyes, turning back around to cover the distance between them and taking Youngho by the cheeks. He kisses him languidly, but pulls away before he’s really convinced back into bed by his husband. Youngho chases after him, giving Taeil’s lower lip a couple more tugs and licks, unwilling to let go.

“Bye,” Taeil says again, a little more breathlessly this time.

“Actually,” Youngho hums. “I was talking about this – ”

He brandishes Taeil’s phone from the pocket of his sweatpants.

Right. _Right_.

Youngho slips the phone into Taeil’s satchel, him being too frozen on the spot to do it himself. He kisses Taeil chastely, still grinning when he teases, “But thank you for the kiss anyway, baby.”

Taeil runs out of the apartment with his cheeks burning red, ignoring the way Youngho’s self-satisfied cackle follows him down the hallway and all the way to the university.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos, comments appreciated ;;;;;


	34. moving day - jaewoo - fluff

In retrospect, Jungwoo would’ve never seen this coming.

Being told by his mother that she’d been unable to take a day off from work to help him with moving into his college dorm was good news. It was great news, actually. It’s a day for first impressions, and he really didn’t need his mother hovering over his shoulder and being embarrassing towards the general public and his future schoolmates.

It’s a week after that his mother is telling him that his cousin is going to be there in her place, supervising and whatnot, and Jungwoo thinks that is the _worst_ news he’s heard all year; if there’s one person any more motherly than his own mother – that would be one Kim Doyoung.

“Are you sure this is the right room? It’s a very small room.”

“Don’t say that,” Jungwoo groans, heaving his first bag of junk onto his bare mattress. “It’s a good room.”

“It’s a small room, that’s what this is,” Doyoung says, scrunching his nose disdainfully at the sight of another bed pushed up against the opposite wall. “Do you know who your roommate is?”

“No,” Jungwoo sighs. “Are you just going to stand there or are you actually going to _please_ help me?”

“I’m fine standing over here,” Doyoung scoffs, but he saunters over to help Jungwoo unload more bags from the giant moving cart. “Why do you have so much crap? Who needs this much crap?”

Jungwoo sets the bags neatly by his side of the bed, “You’re being awfully nasty today.”

“Did you really just call the person helping you with your dorm ‘nasty’?” Doyoung flings one of Jungwoo’s plushies at his face, “I had a date today, and _your_ mother insisted I helped her precious boy get all settled in.”

“You didn’t have to come,” Jungwoo shrugs, though he doesn’t mean it the slightest. Having Doyoung, a third year at the university, around meant having someone that actually knew what they were doing and where they were going. Also, Doyoung’s friends with literally everyone, which has yet to prove to be a disadvantage. So, he adds, “But thanks for coming.”

“Don’t thank me just yet,” Doyoung says, fishing his phone from his backpocket. “I’m only yours until six tonight. I told Taeyong I’d meet him for dinner in the city after his shift.” He glances at Jungwoo, “You can come along, if you’d like.”

Jungwoo cringes, “No thanks. I see you guys enough at family dinners and even that’s a little too much.”

“You’re a child,” Doyoung chides. He takes the last of Jungwoo’s bags from the moving cart, pushing it towards the door as he says, “I’m going to return this back to the lobby before Sicheng comes for my head for it – he’s been working on dorm orientations the entirety of last semester and I’m not willing to be whacked in the head again for this.”

Jungwoo nods, sending him away. Sicheng is one of Doyoung’s many, many friends, and also the senior coordinator to his dorm hall’s move-in day. Doyoung had asked for an extra moving cart so that they wouldn’t have to take two trips, but Sicheng had glared at Doyoung so hard that the pair of cousins decided to leave before their _only_ cart were taken away.

“Hey there.”

Jungwoo pauses from where he’s opening a bag full of clothes. He looks towards the voice, and finds that his heart is slamming up into his throat, hitting the roof of his mouth when he sees a gentle smile directed at him.

“I’m Jung Jaehyun,” the boy says, entering the messy room with a polite nod. He sticks his hand out and Jungwoo take it, eyes fixated on Jaehyun’s ridiculously attractive smile. “The Resident Advisor for this floor. It’s nice to meet you…”

“Uh, Jungwoo,” he lets go of Jaehyun’s hand to swipe the hair out of his eyes, feeling every single nerve light on fire. “Kim Jungwoo, I’m – I’m a first year.”

“Second,” Jaehyun grins. He fiddles with the lime green lanyard around his neck, a stark contrast to his pale, baby pink sweater. Jungwoo’s brain fries. “Are you settling in okay? Need any help?”

“Uh – uhm – ah – ” Jungwoo wishes he were more articulate. “I’m okay, thank you.”

Jaehyun is _so_ attractive, “Okay then, I’m just in the room by the end of the hall, since there aren’t many new residents today,” he smiles, Jungwoo melts, “My door’s always open if you need anything.”

Jungwoo nods feebly, voice almost squeaking when he says, “Okay.”

And when Jaehyun turns to leave, with Jungwoo too daft to come up with any reason for them to continue talking like a normal person that can properly _function_ , Doyoung reappears at the door, “Kim Jungwoo, do you need to – whoa, hey.”

“Doyoung?” Jaehyun steps aside, glancing at Jungwoo and then back at Doyoung. “You guys – know each other?”

Jungwoo screams internally, because of _course_ Doyoung would know him.

(Him, as in, the most attractive boy Jungwoo has ever seen.)

“We’re cousins,” Doyoung answers dryly. He reads off Jaehyun’s _I’m an RA! Ask me anything!_ badge, “Great, I can leave you to him then, he’s a little new to the city.”

Jungwoo balks, “I am not – I – I live under an hour away.”

Doyoung stares at him oddly, “You don’t know where the nearest grocery store is, Jungwoo.” He pats Jaehyun on the shoulder, “Jaehyun’s a good RA, better than Sicheng, who will tell you the longest way to the nearest grocery store just to mess with you, so – make friends, alright?”

Jungwoo wishes the floor would eat him alive, “I can make my own – ”

“Hey,” Doyoung turns to Jaehyun, “Are you free tonight? Can you take him out for me?”

“Oh my _god_ – ”

“Sure,” Jaehyun is smiling again. He hugs his clipboard to his chest, and Jungwoo thinks he could quite possibly die at this very moment and be satisfied because oh my _god_ , _this is happening_. “I’d love to take you out tonight.”

Doyoung pretends to retch, “Gross.”

Jaehyun seems to be an expert at ignoring Doyoung too, “I’ll swing by sometime after six?”

“O – okay,” Jungwoo hopes he won’t stammer this much tonight. Jaehyun leaves with another smile, bright and dimpled and just for Jungwoo, and Doyoung kicks the door shut after him. Jungwoo breathes, after what it seems to be forever, “Why did you – ”

“You’re _so_ obvious,” Doyoung flings another stuffed toy at Jungwoo’s look of flabbergast. “You were Captain McObvious, did you know that? I could feel it all the way down the hall.”

Jungwoo groans, ears turning red, “You’re so annoying.”

“I also just got you a date with Jung Jaehyun, so you’re _welcome_.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry jaewoo shippers ;;;; this was requested and i've never thought to write jaewoo ;;;;;


	35. the kitchen - dotae - fluff

Doyoung is a good boyfriend. He remembers important dates, goes to every single one of Taeyong’s exhibitions, keeps their apartment clean and appropriate for habitation. Above all that he does and likes do to, he loves Taeyong. Without a doubt, it’s really the only thing that keeps him going on some days, just how scarily much would be unbeknownst to the boy himself.

And so, if there were a scale from one to ten on how worried Doyoung had gotten upon hearing a doctor voice his concerns for Taeyong’s high blood sugar levels, it would’ve been through the roof.

That night, he’d cleared their kitchen of all unnecessary junk food – leftover cakes from Taeyong’s work party, half eaten chocolate bars, packets of gummies that’ve been in the fridge for far too long. Doyoung knows of Taeyong’s addiction to all thinks sweet and sugary, and he’s never fought his boyfriend over it, but hearing an _actual_ diagnosis changes things.

Taeyong had cried that night, begging Doyoung not to throw his precious chocolates away, which was really going overboard in Doyoung’s eyes. He’d clung onto Doyoung’s sleeves and tried to protect that last few sweets in the cupboards, but Doyoung, with his advantageous height, managed to clear everything out by the end of the night without much obstruction.

“I won’t eat any sweets either,” Doyoung had said, after apologizing repeatedly for making Taeyong cut cold turkey. “We can do it together.”

“You’re a _monster_ ,” Taeyong had sobbed in reply, but he hides himself in Doyoung’s arms anyway, tears staining the front of Doyoung’s sleep shirt. “You’re a chocolate-hating monster.”

In the morning, Doyoung had expected Taeyong to get mad. Not only from withholding chocolate, but he’d done some research after Taeyong’d fallen asleep, weakened by his own tears, and having such a drastic change to a diet could cause quite a bit of mood swings.

Though, Doyoung thinks Taeyong is doing fine.

He doesn’t have any sweets around Doyoung, which is a lot of the time, and he isn’t crying anymore, which is a good sign. His energy levels are alright, and he’s no longer up in the middle of the night, unable to contain his sugar rush, making him a much better sleeping partner, actually.

Doyoung, on the other hand, is not doing so fine.

As much as Taeyong says it’s unintentional, Doyoung will bet his life that it is, in fact, intentional. After barring sweets from their diets, Taeyong has taken it upon himself to parading himself around the apartment in either a baggy shirt and _only_ the shirt, or paired with tight boxer briefs. It’s only been a week, but it’s been seven days too long and it has Doyoung wishing he could slam his head into the drywalls of their apartment.

Tonight is no different.

Doyoung is mid-way through a documentary on Netflix when Taeyong saunters into his peripheral, dressed in an oversized shirt (Doyoung’s) and matched with a pair of black boxer briefs.

“Hi,” Taeyong says, when he notices Doyoung watching his every move. As if he hadn’t planned this for the entire twenty minutes he’d locked himself in their en suite. He pours himself a glass of water, walking over slowly to where Doyoung’s currently sitting on the couch, already salivating, “What’re you watching?”

Taeyong drops right onto Doyoung’s lap, leaving the glass of water by the far end of the coffee table, then returning to rest his hands on Doyoung’s chest. Doyoung blinks, taken aback by the lack of distance between them so suddenly, “What are you doing?”

“Looking at you,” Taeyong hums. He moves to seat himself a little more comfortably over Doyoung’s hips, “Watching you.”

“And can I ask – ” Doyoung swallows thickly, eyes glancing down at the way Taeyong is moving his hips, “Why are you watching me?”

“You’re my boyfriend,” Taeyong answers simply. He steadies himself, leaning against Doyoung with painted intentions, “I can’t look at you?”

“You can.” Doyoung keeps his hands on his toros, unwilling to play Taeyong’s game, “But are you going to _just_ look at me?

Seven days and Taeyong has been flitting around the apartment, legs _bare,_ teasing Doyoung until it’s painfully hard to think of anything else, but never giving in. It doesn’t help that he hears Taeyong jerking off in the shower either, whimpering and moaning to himself, and the door’s always locked (it’s never been locked), resulting in an extremely sad Doyoung and his sugarless diet sitting by the edge of their bed.

He knows Taeyong’s trying to get Doyoung to cave, maybe come to an ultimatum and allow _some_ chocolates in the house. But Doyoung is not one to give in, and not on such an important thing as this.

Taeyong is strutting around pantless and Doyoung is _suffering_.

“Why?” Taeyong asks, moving in to press his lips to Doyoung’s quickly. Nothing enough. “Miss me?”

Doyoung leans back against the couch to stare up at Taeyong, “What do you want?”

“Chocolate,” Taeyong grins. “At least a few bars. In our fridge. For when I’m working all night and I’m stressed. And sad.”

“Wake me up if you’re sad,” Doyoung says. “You don’t need chocolate.”

Taeyong frowns, “But I need to have chocolate.”

“What you _have_ is an addiction,” Doyoung deadpans. He softens up when Taeyong grumbles, tugging his hands away, “C’mon, this is for your own good, you know that.”

“But it’s hard,” Taeyong sighs, closing his eyes. “I can’t _not_ have chocolate, I want it.”

Doyoung maneuvers Taeyong out of his laps and lies him down on the couch, pinning his minx of a boyfriend flat with the weight of his hips. Taeyong goes, complying easily and moving to hold Doyoung close too.

“And I want – ” Doyoung kisses him sweetly, “To have the love of my life live a life that’s long and healthy.”

Taeyong squirms, “But you’ll take care of me.”

“Yeah, I will,” Doyoung says, caressing Taeyong’s cheek. His skin’s a lot better without the influx of sugar now too, “If you get sick, I’ll take care of you.”

“Then why – ”

“What if I’m not around to take care of you?” Doyoung whispers, watching Taeyong’s eyes grow double their size. He knows it’s a bad card to play, the break-up card, seeing as how emotional Taeyong is as a whole, but he’s really not going to make it to the end of the week at this rate. Plus, Taeyong’s been punishing him enough,

“What if – you choose someone else over me? What if I won’t be there to take care of you?”

“Don’t say that,” Taeyong grits his teeth. He curls his fingers into the collar of Doyoung’s sleep shirt, eyes already starting to shine, “Don’t you _dare_ say that.”

Doyoung lowers his voice, “We don’t know what will happen in the future.”

Taeyong frowns, “Stop it. I won’t – we won’t – just, don’t say that.”

“But what if?”

Taeyong yanks Doyoung down roughly, and Doyoung goes, with a yelp of surprise. He kisses Taeyong back, no matter how hard he wants to laugh at his tiny peanut of a boyfriend. He tries to break their kiss to say that he’s merely joking, but Taeyong has no intentions of letting go, holding onto Doyoung with a death grip.

“I just – ” Taeyong sighs heavily, finally awarding Doyoung the chance to breathe. He still keeps them close, not wanting Doyoung even an inch away, “I just wanted chocolate – why are you – talking about leaving me?”

Doyoung laughs, and even harder when Taeyong glares up at him, “Don’t look at me like that – don’t expect to believe that I thought _you_ thought it was real, even for a second.”

“I didn’t.” Taeyong flips them over to lie on Doyoung, pressing his cheek over Doyoung’s heart. “But I don’t like thinking about it.”

“You don’t have to think about it, it’s never going to happen.”

Taeyong grabs one of Doyoung’s hands and squeezes it tightly, “If you ever break up with me, I’ll eat so much chocolate that you’ll _have_ to come back and take care of me.”

Doyoung brings their hands up to kiss the back of Taeyong’s, murmuring softly, “It’ll never happen, don’t you count on it.”

Taeyong sighs, in defeat maybe, sinking into Doyoung with every breath. He continues to fiddle with Doyoung’s hands, almost bored when he says, “I can’t even have a little bit of chocolate at home?”

Doyoung angles his head to look at Taeyong, “You’ve been doing so well lately though, do you really need the chocolate?”

“I don’t know – ” Taeyong slumps against the back of the couch, placing Doyoung’s hand on his chest, “What if I need emergency chocolate when I’m sad? Seriously?”

“I said you could wake me whenever you needed,” Doyoung promises. He plays with the hem of Taeyong’s shirt, revealing the band of his Calvin Klein boxer brief, “I could be of help.”

“Could you?” Taeyong pushes Doyoung’s hand further up his shirt with a challenging grin.

“Are you sad now?” Doyoung asks, stroking Taeyong’s torso lightly. He feels Taeyong shiver under his touch.

“Not really,” Taeyong gets up to straddle Doyoung proper,

“But I _guess_ I could use a little cheering up.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's the end, folks ;;;;;; 
> 
> let me know which was your favourite chapter in the comments! :)
> 
> i'm sorry i couldn't to get to some of your requests, but i had to stop accepting them at some point, else i'd never be able to bring myself to work on anything new ;;;;;;; i hope you liked these, and hopefully i'll be able to work on other things before starting round 2 of roulette ;;;;
> 
> meanwhile, you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/jenhyungs), if you'd like!


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